


Moments Etched in Memory

by Julia_Fractal



Series: Daredevil & Defenders Fics [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Angst, Black Sky, Canon Matt/Elektra/Karen Love Triangle, Canon Temporary Character Death, Character Study, Elektra POV, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Matt POV, Missing Scenes, Plot, Poor Conflicted Matt, Relationship Development, Sexual Fantasy, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-01-10 17:45:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12304347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julia_Fractal/pseuds/Julia_Fractal
Summary: *~*~*“I only had a few moments with her,” he tells Stick.  Yet each of those moments is etched indelibly into Matt’s memory: Elektra’s fiery kisses; her laughter as they bumped knees on his narrow couch; the cadence of her heartbeat when he promised to run with her, to the ends of the earth if need be…Twice now she’d blazed across his life like a comet, and he’ll never know a fire like hers again.*A chronicle of how Matt and Elektra fell back in love during the course of Daredevil Season 2.  Features original content in the form of missing and extended scenes, along with alternating Elektra and Matt POVs.*~*~*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [significantowl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/significantowl/gifts).



  
*~*~*

Wherever she was in the world, Elektra always got a subscription to the New York Bulletin.  
  
Elektra didn’t play head games with herself.  She read the paper cover to cover because of Matthew.  Because she liked knowing what was going on in his city, and there was always the chance that a blind young lawyer might be mentioned in some human interest story.  Plus the news out of New York was exciting, full of alien invasions and vigilante justice.  
   
She took plenty of lovers, but never stayed long enough to get attached.  There would never be another like Matthew.  Someone who could match her blow for blow in the ring, then caress her with heart-breaking tenderness in the bedroom.  Someone who’d loved her so wholly and completely that she couldn’t help loving him back.    
  
Someone she still loved after ten long years apart.  
  
Elektra was disciplined enough to keep those thoughts in their proper place.  Memories of Matthew were only allowed while reading the New York papers and on particularly lonely nights.  She never called, she never wrote, and she gave New York a wide berth when she had to work in the States.  Matthew was a part of her past, and she can never be a part of his future.    
  
The first photo of the Man in Black took her breath away.  Of course she recognized him instantly: that jawline, those lips, the contours of his body under those skin-tight clothes.    
      
_She had to see him again._   This feeling was no tender, poetic tug at the heartstrings.  This was like a meat hook sunk deep in her entrails, and threatened to eviscerate her if she resisted.  
      
What would she even open with?    
      
“I missed you?”    
      
“I love you?”  
      
How about “Sorry I left you at Roscoe Sweeney’s mansion, stranded next to a cooling body.  Please believe me it was for your own good?”    
  
Elektra resisted the temptation as long as she could.  Until the day “Daredevil Collars Fisk” appeared in gigantic font on the front page of the New York Bulletin.  After that thoughts of Matthew started seeping into every waking moment.  She even dreamed about Matthew in his red suit, racing across the rooftops of New York City.  Dreamed about fighting beside him each night and stripping him out of that suit as the sun rose.  She had trouble eating and sleeping and staying focused during training.  On one mission she got so sloppy that some punk kid nearly stabbed her in the eye with her own sai.  Before he could attack again, Elektra swept his leg and thrust her remaining sai through his heart.  Afterwards, she drove to the airport and got on the first flight to New York.  
  
Once upon a time, she’d cherished the darkness in Matthew and he’d seen the light in her.  Once, they’d loved each other despite all the lies and deceptions.    
  
Maybe that was enough of a start.

  
  
*~*~*

Matt’s still smiling as he unlocks the door and walks into his kitchen.  He remembers the feel of raindrops beading on Karen’s skin, remembers her quickening breaths as they kissed.  Best of all, there’s the chance to do it all over again tomorrow night.  
  
Suddenly Matt freezes as he realizes what he was too distracted to notice before: _There's an intruder in his apartment!_   He grabs the nearest kitchen knife and readies himself for a fight.  
  
“Hello, Matthew,” her familiar voice comes out of the darkness, so much danger and promise packed into two little words.  
  
“Elektra…” Matt breathes out.  He sets down the knife and readies himself for a whole other kind of battle.  
  
Matt’s proud of how he handles himself during the conversation that follows.  She reminds him of their past sexual escapades and Matt stands firm.  She tries to hire him for a case and he refuses.  
  
“I’m alone in the world Matthew,” Elektra says, and there’s nothing but heart-breaking truth behind those words.  “Of course you know what that feels like.”  But Matt’s not alone, not anymore.  
  
Matt orders her to get out and she goes, but the scent of her perfume still lingers in the air.  As he locks the door behind her, Matt is certain that he hasn’t seen the last of Elektra Natchios.  

*~*~*

There are a hundred reasons why he ought to stay as far away from Elektra as possible.  
  
She’s manipulative and untrustworthy.  
  
She brings out the worst in him.  
  
She can turn his life upside down with the speed of a raging hurricane.  
  
And Matt is very proud of the life he’s built over the past few years.  Nelson and Murdock may still be a small firm, but they’re starting to truly hit their stride.  Karen and Foggy are more than friends and colleagues, they’re his chosen family.  Their days in the office and evenings at Josie’s ground him and make him whole.    
  
As for his night job as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, Karen doesn’t know and Foggy still doesn’t want to talk about it.  But having them in his life makes it easier to patrol each night, reminds him that despite all the evil he sees, there are still good, decent people who are worth fighting for.  
  
When he inevitably ends up with broken bones or bloody wounds in the performance of his evening job, there’s Claire to patch him up and Father Lantom to hear his confessions.  
  
Things are pretty good right now, and sometimes Matt wishes he could just freeze his life in this moment. 

Life obviously has other plans.

*~*~*

Matthew’s the same yet different from what Elektra remembers.  
  
By day he plays the part of the meek, affable, small-time lawyer.  Holed up in a tiny office with his shaggy-haired friend and pretty little assistant.  Elektra does a quick hack into their bank records and learns that their funds are in as sorry a state as their office.  The three of them probably spend more work hours bonding with each other than tackling actual cases.    
  
By night Matthew is an entirely different creature.  The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.  The man she fell in love with finally emerging in his full glory.  There’s a swagger in his step and a brutal efficiency in the way he fights.  Taking down would-be muggers and drug peddlers like he could pound the evil out of them.  The videos she could find of Matthew’s fights are grainy at best —  scattered police footage and low-res surveillance cameras.  Still, she feels her blood sing seeing that familiar body in motion, feels it surging every time he lands a blow.  
  
Of course, Matthew being Matthew, he operates with no sense of self-preservation.  He launches himself into fights of one against 5, one against 10, one against a 20-member biker gang.  Even his friends keep telling him that he’s going to get killed someday, and Elektra grimly agrees.  
  
Back in his apartment, Elektra didn’t need super senses to tell that Matthew still desired her.  But he’s much too disciplined to let that sway his judgement.  _Daredevil has to be her way in_.  Elektra could prove herself a worthy partner in his fight for New York.  Could put her considerable skills into making his city safer, and keeping Matthew alive long enough to realize that they still belong together.    
  
She yearns to join him on those rooftop patrols and back alleys brawls, but they need bigger prey than Hell’s Kitchen’s everyday low-lifes.  Elektra’s been meticulously planning the Roxxon operation for weeks.  Now that Matthew is almost on board, it’s time to let the first domino fall.

*~*~*

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

*~*~*

Matt’s not at his best when he stumbles into the office the next morning.  Trying to drown his memories in alcohol just made him more maudlin last night and hung-over now.  Thank God there’s Foggy and his fruit cobbler; and Karen’s sweetly tentative flirtation and reminder about their first date tonight.    
  
Then Elektra deposits a generous retainer into the Nelson and Murdock bank account, and Matt’s day derails off the beaten track.  
  
Matt remembers Elektra mentioning a board meeting with Roxxon, and tracks her there during his lunch break.  He tries to convince himself that he’s merely performing his due diligence on a new client, but even he has a hard time believing it.  What’s really surprising is the electronic bug Elektra plants in the company’s servers, managing to infiltrate their systems in five minutes flat while smiling demurely at Roxxon’s assembled board members.  Matt shakes his head as he walks back to the office, wondering what other hidden talents she might have.  
  
Matt’s evening with Karen starts out rocky.  They’ve been seeing each other every weekday for almost a year, but it’s amazing how things are suddenly awkward because they’re at a French restaurant and it’s officially a dinner date.  The phone call from Elektra certainly doesn’t help, and Matt practically flees the restaurant with Karen in tow.  
  
Things go a lot better at the Indian restaurant, where they’re surrounded by working families and exuberantly noisy kids.  Karen describes the ceiling dripping with multi-colored lights, and Matt pictures all those lights reflected in her eyes.  By the time they reach Karen’s apartment Matt’s finally starting to feel like himself again.  The version of him who’s just an ordinary guy lucky enough to date a kind, smart, beautiful woman.  They hold hands while sitting on her stoop, enjoying the feeling of a friendship finally blossoming into something more.  
  
“Alright, I’m going to kiss you,” Matt announces, and Karen laughs as she meets him halfway.  These kisses are every bit as sweet as the ones from last night.  But this time they keep going, and Matt hears Karen’s breathing deepen between each kiss; feels her skin flush with arousal beneath his fingers.  
  
“You could come up if you like,” Karen offers on a breathy exhale.  
  
“I would love to,” Matt starts.  
  
“But you won’t,” Karen finishes for him.  
  
“Not tonight,” Matt agrees. “Because I have this incredible ability to bring disaster to the best things in my life, and tonight has been perfect.”  
  
“And if I stop now, then I get to keep this one perfect night,” Matt says as he steals one more kiss.  
  
“And also have the chance of keeping it going tomorrow,” and another kiss after that, “and the day after that,” and one more kiss after that.  
  
“And the day after that…” Karen joins in, and they both laugh.  
  
“Then I guess it's good night, Mr. Murdock.”  
  
“Good night, Ms. Page,” Matt answers, and basks in the glow of the moment as Karen steps through her front door.  
  
Matt stops a mugger on his way home and counts it as his patrol for the night.  It’s been a good night.  A perfect night.  Matt knows he should go home and get some much-needed rest, but instead his feet carry him past his own apartment and into midtown… all the way to Elektra’s penthouse.  

  
*~*~*

 _“I loved you Matthew,”_ Elektra reminds him over and over.  
  
He knows full well that she’s really saying _“I love you still,”_ and _“I want you back.”_   She’s been very clear about her intentions from the start.  
   
_“I know you loved me too,”_ she reminds him.  
  
Did he?  He certainly thought so at the time.  Elektra was like a whirlwind that swept him up and he never wanted to touch the ground again.  In Roscoe Sweeney’s kitchen they’d talked about marriage and children and luxury homes around the world.  She brought out those sides of him that he’d always tucked away.  Confident, daring, shameless in his own desires and appetites.  Their entire time together Matt was flying high.  He could do anything, be anything when he was with her.  Except he couldn’t, wouldn’t, become a killer.  Even if the victim was his father’s murderer.  Even if it meant losing her.  
   
How much of the Elektra he knew in college was a facade carefully designed to entice him, and how much was real?    
  
How could he have loved someone he didn’t even know?

  
*~*~*  


Waiting in the living room of Elektra’s penthouse, Matt tells himself that he’s only here for answers.  That he wants to lay the ghost of this past relationship to rest before moving forward with Karen.  That breaking into his ex’s apartment at 5 a.m. has nothing to do with wanting to see Elektra.  
  
Of course, nothing involving Elektra ever goes as planned.  He doesn’t get much of an answer regarding Roscoe Sweeney.  He does, however, get the surprise of his life when Elektra unpacks his Daredevil costume and a gang of Yakuza breaks down her door.  
  
Matt sweeps down from the rafters and Elektra’s right behind him.  Somehow they fall into perfect sync like they’ve been fighting together for years.  The two of them whirl around the room in a deadly ballet, landing blows and kicks, trading opponents as needed.  Before Matt knows it, a fully-armed Yakuza hit squad lies prostrate on the floor, and the whole thing happened in 10 minutes flat.  
  
In the sudden silence after the fight, Matt hears both their hearts pounding with the joy of battle.  He shakes off the memories of those other times their hearts raced together: in his dorm room, in her bedroom, in the ring at Fogwell’s Gym…  
  
“Hungry?” Elektra asks as she pulls down her cowl. 

Against Matt’s better judgement, he answers yes.

 

*~*~*


	3. Chapter 3

*~*~*

They walk into the nearest all-night diner just as the sun comes up.    
  
Somehow his perfect evening with Karen has morphed into a midnight chat with Elektra, followed by a battle with the Yakuza.  Matt supposes that would be the definition of a perfect night for Daredevil.  But the post-fight endorphins are wearing off, and the all-nighter he just pulled manifests itself as a pounding headache.  He needs to understand what the hell just happened; he needs to be at work in an hour; and most of all, he needs coffee. 

Elektra orders the largest breakfast platter on the menu, plus pie, and Matt ducks his head to hide an involuntary smile.  Before meeting Elektra he’d never known someone so tiny could eat so much.    
  
Twenty minutes later, Matt is less charmed as he sips his third cup of coffee while Elektra makes vaguely orgasmic sounds over her food.  
  
“Alright, you’ve eaten enough,” Matt insists as he grabs her plate, “Talk.”  
  
Matt needs answers.  He knew that Elektra could hold her own in the ring, but until last night he didn’t know she was skilled enough to fight the Yakuza.  She must also be a damn good detective to figure out his Daredevil identity so easily.  Maybe she does know him as well as she claims, but there’s certainly a lot Matt never knew about her.  Matt has the nagging feeling he’s been under-estimating his ex-girlfriend all along.  
  
“You've been lying since you got here, and that ends now,” Matt insists.  “I want to know what you're doing back here, what's happening with the Yakuza, and I want to know how you know… about me.”  
  
“I know who you are because I watch the news,” Elektra answers easily.  “‘The successful apprehension of Wilson Fisk.’”  
  
"I wear a mask,” Matt points out, pressing her like any other hostile client.  
  
“You can't mask that ass. I'd know it anywhere,” Elektra shoots back and Matt almost chokes on his coffee.  None of his other clients can make _that_ particular claim.  
  
“Matthew,” Elektra says as she reaches for him, and Matt grabs her wrist.  He’s not proud of himself, but in that moment he simply couldn’t take her hand on his face.  Not when that touch could trigger too many distracting memories.  Elektra could easily break his hold, but instead she just stays there.  Lets him feel her pulse like a human lie detector.  Lets him squeeze too hard and too long.  
  
“Let me tell you what's going to happen now… You're going to book yourself on the first available flight out of New York and get on it.  Go back to whatever spa, or resort, or five-star hotel you just came from, and stay out of my city!”  Matt knows it’s an unfair demand, but he can’t trust himself to stay away from her.  He needs an ocean between them for safety.  
  
Matt lets go of Elektra’s wrist and feels a hot flush of shame as she calmly rotates it to assess the damage.  
  
“If the Yakuza have their sights set on something bigger than your spoiled little rich ass,” he adds, “then I will take care of them.”  
  
“The Yakuza _do_ have a bigger plan, and I'm not going anywhere.”  Elektra lays out a proposal for taking on the Yakuza together.  It’s a solid plan.  She has access to information and resources he lacks, and there’s no sense in passing up an opportunity to make New York safer.  Of course there’s the awkwardness of working with his ex, but maybe their entire college romance was just based on…  
  
“No sex,” Elektra says.  Matt lets out a shocked laugh that he quickly turns into a scoff.  She’s just blindsided him again.  
  
“You have a pair on you,” he manages.  
  
Elektra lets out a serene “Mmm hmm” and keeps eating her fries.  
  
“This may come as a surprise to you, but I’ve actually moved on in the 10 years since you left.  I’m seeing someone now.  And that’s only part of the reason I have zero interest in ever starting anything up with you ever again!”  Even Matt can tell there are one too many superlatives in that last sentence.  
  
“Of course you do,” Elektra answers, cocky as ever.  
  
Matt gives up and gets back to business.  He tries to stay in lawyer mode, to build a barricade with his words as he negotiates for the safety of his city.  Yet somehow Elektra manages to sidestep them all with a wink and a smile.  Their verbal sparring has been a better intellectual workout than his last three court cases.  Heck, maybe he should start counting these nightly encounters as billable hours.    
  
What starts as an interrogation ends in a joint mission against the Yakuza.  At least Matt has set his own rules and conditions: No killing, strictly business, and Elektra will be out of New York as soon as the job is over.  
  
“I have one more condition, and this is the deal breaker,” Elektra says, deadly serious.  “You have to give me back that pie.”  
  
Matt can’t help smiling as he hands over her pie.

 

*~*~*


	4. Chapter 4

*~*~*

Matthew’s grown up nicely in their years apart.    
  
Elektra ogles him rather shamelessly as he changes in her car, and lays out her plan for the Roxxon Gala.  Isolate Stan Gibson, take his keycard, and steal the secret Roxxon ledger stashed on the 13th floor.  
  
As they enter, Matthew’s hand settles into the crook of her arm as she pretends to guide him around the room.  It’s just like the night they met, only this time he’s her partner in crime instead of her target.  
  
“You must look nice,” Matthew says shortly after her jacket comes off.    
  
Elektra basks in the indirect compliment, but decides not to call him on it.  “How would you know?”  
  
“Turned a lot of heads.  Raising a lot of heart rates,” Matthew answers.  “Too bad you can't enjoy the party.”  
  
“I think I'll manage a good time,” Elektra replies, brushing against him “accidentally” as they head for the bar.  
  
Matthew’s skills are truly impressive in action.  He’s all affable charm as he spills wine on Stan Gibson, actually getting Gibson to apologize to _him_   before storming off to the men’s room for cleanup.  Outside, Elektra hears a few muffled grunts and the soft thuds of unconscious heads hitting the wall.  Minutes later, Matthew’s back with a swagger in his step and Gibson's keycard in hand.  
  
“Well done!” she tells him as they step into the elevator, and catches Matthew’s quick smile before he could hide it.  On the 13th floor she disables the security cameras while Matthew maneuvers them out of sight of the patrolling guards.  Elektra has to admit that she really couldn’t have completed this mission without him… not without a lot more carnage anyway.  
  
Once they're in the executive's office, Matthew easily cracks the safe, but there’s no ledger in sight.  Elektra searches the desk, the office shelves, getting more frantic with every breath.  
  
_Shit, shit, shit!_  
  
Elektra doesn’t really care how deep Roxxon’s criminal roots go.  Money and power will always attract vice, and if they take down Roxxon another will soon take its place.  But Matthew _does_ care, and this is the only foothold she has back in his life. Without this ledger there’s no next step to her plan.  No irresistible mystery or criminal plot that gives her an excuse to be here tomorrow night.  She’ll be honour-bound to leave New York and stay out of his life.  All her careful planning will come to nothing.       
  
“If they find Gibson, we're toast.  We have to go,” she says, hating the taste of failure in her mouth.  
  
Matthew shushes her with a finger to his lips.  “There's an electrical current running behind this wall… And an interruption in the signal -- here,” he waves his hand in front of an innocuous-looking bookshelf.  Moments later Elektra figures out the mechanism and the door to a secret room slides open.  
  
“I’m a genius!” she announces, giddy with relief.  This time Matthew doesn’t bother hiding his grin as he follows her into the room.    
  
They find the ledger just as the building’s security starts buzzing like a kicked beehive.  As they wait for the elevator, the lights shut off and the security gates crash down.  The Roxxon guards are definitely onto them now.  Matthew holds the door for her as they dash for the stairs.  Now the fun really begins.  
  
On the 12th floor, they hide behind the conference table in the nearest office, waiting for the guards to arrive.  Elektra rips her dress to ensure full range of movement, and watches Matthew’s fingers twitch at the sound.  
   
“Now!” Matthew says as the guards enter, and they both leap into action.  Matthew sets them up and Elektra knocks them down.  She almost feels sorry for the guy she jabs in the throat, poor sod never stood a chance.  
  
Then they’re sprinting down the stairs again, and Elektra quickly outlines her plan for getting security to allow them out of the building…

 

*~*~*

“This is just for cover,” Matt reminds himself as the 11th floor boardroom door clicks shut.  
  
“Of course,” Elektra replies easily, lifting herself onto the conference table and hiking her dress up even higher.  
  
_'Hide the ledger under the tux jacket, keep an ear out for the guards, don’t get carried away.'_  
  
Matt’s body totally, utterly fails to obey.  All his senses are still wide open and on high alert.  So he couldn’t help hearing how Elektra’s moans of pleasure are not at all fake as he kisses his way down her neck.  Feel how eagerly her hands shove his shirt off his shoulders, diving hungrily for the bare skin beneath.  It feels so good to have Elektra’s long legs wrapped around him, drawing him closer, tighter, drawing him _in_.  His body still knows hers inside and out, and every touch feels like coming home.    
  
Thank God the Roxxon security guards arrive very quickly.

Back in the car, Matt discovers that Elektra can read Japanese, and that Roxxon is involved in everything from drug peddling to human trafficking.  Matt has to admit that this is the kind of information he’d never be able to get from his usual street-level informants.  Plus there’s something else so secret that it’s written in code when none of their other dirty secrets are encrypted.    
  
“Same time tomorrow Matthew?” Elektra asks.  Matt breaks out in a helpless smile that must echo hers.  The only possible answer to that question, for the good of New York, is yes.

 

*~*~*

“I hope your schedule’s clear buddy,” Foggy’s voice echoes in his head, “because the People vs. Frank Castle starts next week!”  
  
It’s been a hell of a day.  Matt feels like he has emotional whiplash from the night’s highs and lows.  Elektra’s delighted laughter versus the hurt and disappointment in Foggy’s voice.  
  
“The time is now 12 - 15 - A - M.”  His smartphone announces in its electronic monotone.  
  
Fifteen hours ago, Karen had pressed a hot cup of coffee into his hand, letting her fingers linger as she pulled away.  They’d chatted about something inconsequential just to prolong the moment.  Matt had smiled at himself as she walked away.  
  
Three hours ago, that same hand had been sliding up Elektra’s thigh.  
  
That, Matt decides, is something he’s not going to re-examine until his next confession.  
  
Jesus, he needs sleep.  He needs this roller-coaster ride of a day to end so that he can start again tomorrow.  Drink his coffee, put on his tie, and pretend that his life has a passing resemblance to normality.  
   
He should text Foggy and apologize.  He should make himself a cup of tea to calm his nerves.  He should drag his tired ass out of bed and start prepping the Castle case.  
  
He should sleep.    
  
Matt’s already showered and changed, but his nerves are still jangling from adrenaline and other, more complicated emotions.  At this rate, he’ll be tossing and turning for hours.  
  
Matt gives up and grabs his cock.  
  
Try to think of Karen.  Her warmth, her smile, her safe and easy companionship.  Her long, soft hair falling like a veil around them both as they kiss.  
  
Except the sense memory that comes is of smooth, sleek strands sliding through his fingers.  Dark hair that brushes his cheeks as her body arches above his, as her voice whispers, _“Matthew…”_  
  
No!  Matt is not going to think about Elektra right now.  He is not going to fantasize about how far things might have gone if the Roxxon guards hadn’t shown up.  
  
Except he desperately needs sleep to finally bring this day to an end, and the quickest way to get there is by jerking off.  
  
Matt’s cock twitches in his hand.  He huffs out a deep breath and gives in.

  
  
*~*~*


	5. Chapter 5

*~*~*

  
“I don’t think the guards are coming,” Matt imagines himself saying back in the Roxxon boardroom.  Elektra laughs in his ear, deliciously low and throaty.    
  
“Guess we have a few minutes to ourselves then.”  Her legs are still wrapped around his hips, and she uses them to pull him closer, pressing his hard-on tight against her body.  “What shall we do with the time?”    
   
Her hands are already unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly.    
  
“Wait, wait… Let me…” Matt mumbles into her shoulder.  
  
“Let me taste you first,” he wants to say.  But his intentions must have been pretty clear as he sinks to his knees.  Elektra cooperates by pulling off her panties and swinging one leg onto his shoulder.    
  
Matt dives under the slinky fabric of her dress and finds her shockingly wet.  Elektra lets out a gutteral “Yes!” as he buries his face in her folds.  For the first few moments Matt forgets about technique or finesse.  He’s too busy drinking in the taste and scent of her, still so familiar after all the years apart.  His hands run up her thighs to smooth the tension from her muscles, coaxing her to relax beneath his hands and mouth.    
  
Elektra stretches out along the conference table with a happy sigh.  Matt takes it as his cue to get to work.  
  
Matt starts with broad strokes of his tongue to warm her up, then moves in a tightening spiral towards her clit.  One of Elektra’s hands tangles in his hair while her other hand plays with her breasts. She rolls her hips slowly, towards him and then away, like a wave reaching for shore.  
      
His mind is full of foolish thoughts like _“You’re even more beautiful than I remember.  I want you, I need you, I don’t know how I lived without you.”_   Instead of saying these things out loud, Matt inscribes them into her skin with his hands and lips and tongue.  
  
Matt finally settles on a steady rhythm that’s just a little faster than her heartbeat.  Elektra gasps and bucks her hips up to meet him.  He pushes two fingers inside her and strokes her in counterpoint to his tongue.  
  
“Fuck yes! Please don’t stop!” Matt gladly obeys, scooping his hands under her and pulling her even closer towards his eager mouth. Elektra moans loudly and comes hard, her back arching all the way off the table. She’s flooding his mouth with her juices and filling his ears with her cries. Matt savours every moment of her pleasure and keeps going until she gently pushes him away from her over-sensitized flesh. Then he just holds her and scatters kisses across her belly as her breathing slowly returns to normal.    
  
Afterwards Elektra sits up in a single fluid motion.  “Mmm, you have a very talented mouth Mr. Murdock,” she says, and rewards him with a long, long kiss.  
  
Matt hears the purr of Elektra’s zipper as it travels from the nape of her neck to the small of her back.  Then two little clicks as she unhooks her bra and lets it drop.  He can almost sense the heat radiating from her body as she stands up, gloriously nude.  His hands are already itching to touch her again.  
   
“Your turn now, Matthew.”  Elektra’s recovery speed is truly remarkable.  
  
Matt’s back hits the floor with a soft thump, the carpet fibres tickling his nose.  Elektra brackets his hips with her thighs as she straddles him.  She keeps kissing him as she takes his cock in her hand and slowly works him into her body.  At her first gasp Matt can’t help bucking his hips up to meet her, surging all the way into her sweet, tight heat.  Above him Elektra arches as she rides him, her whole body pulling taut like a bowstring.  She might take him hard and fast, sharp teeth nipping at his neck.  Or she might go slow and gentle, letting kisses fall on his face like rain.  Matt doesn’t care as long as he gets to be with her every step of the way.  
  
Matt throws his head back and surrenders.

*~*~*


	6. Chapter 6

*~*~*

Their case is progressing a lot faster than Matt could have managed on his own.  In just a few nights they've uncovered dozens of Roxxon’s dirty little secrets; gotten the sleazeball language professor to decode the ledger; and are now heading to the train yard to investigate a mysterious shipment.    
  
Matt is uncomfortably aware that he hasn’t been pulling his weight on the Castle case, but he trusts in Foggy and Karen’s abilities.  He’ll make it up to them once the trial actually begins.  
  
What he’s doing with Elektra is just as important.  Together they’re making his city safer, and every night with her is exhilarating.  Their bodies fall into sync so easily.  Like two stars locked in orbit, never touching but always guided by the other’s movement.  Guarding each other’s backs, following each other’s cues, taking down enemy after enemy without pause.  He winces in sympathy every time she takes a hit.  But deep down, Matt is glad to know that she’s willing to fight and bleed for his city.  For him.  
  
This is something he can have guilt-free: Her intelligence, her skill, her savage grace in combat.  
  
He’d never imagined having someone by his side as Daredevil.  Now he never wants to patrol alone again.  Matt doesn’t want this to end once the Yakuza are gone.  Inside his head, he’s already re-negotiating the terms of their deal, marshalling his arguments for why Elektra should stay.  
  
_Matt Murdock is not falling back in love with Elektra._

*~*~*

  
  
The past few nights with Matthew have been glorious, and this is only the start.  Daredevil is who Matthew truly is, what he was born to be.  A man of power who remakes the world to his will, unshackled by law or convention or morality.  
  
Elektra has never been more in love... or more sexually frustrated.  
  
She knows that taking sex off the table was definitely the right play.  If they slept together too soon Matthew would mentally crucify himself for cheating, run to his priest, then back into the safe, comforting arms of his little blonde girlfriend.  She doesn’t want Matthew for just one night, she wants him forever.  And for that to happen he needs to love her more than any other.    
  
Elektra consoles herself with the fact that she has seen sides of Matthew that Karen Page never will.  His little assistant might get him during the day, but Elektra can lay claim to all his nights.  
  
Tonight they’re investigating a mystery shipment the Yakuza brought in.  Matthew takes them on a shortcut to the train yard, and treats her to a mini walking tour of Hell’s Kitchen along the way.    
  
“Over there, on the seventh floor, is the first girl I helped,” Matthew tells her as they pass by a nondescript apartment building.  “Her dad used to abuse her until I taught him a lesson.  Now her mom has finally kicked him out and they’re doing much better.”  Elektra glances up and can just barely make out the silhouette of a child bent over her homework.  Matthew cocks his head to listen and smiles, “She learned about dinosaurs in school today, duckbills are her favorites.”  
  
“Next block over is the dumpster where Claire first found me…” he continues.  
  
Elektra has never lived in one place longer than a few years, and Matthew has never left New York.  She’s starting to see the city through his eyes.  How each street can be layered with memories.  How much someone could love one little corner of a city and its people.  
  
When they get to the train yard, the cargo containers are filled with sand, and the Yakuza descend on them as soon as they open the doors.  In combat, Matthew’s 'No killing' rule proves to be an interesting technical challenge.  Elektra’s standard finishing moves are a stab to the chest or a slash across the throat.  Having to beat every enemy into submission instead takes a bloody long time.  She wins her fight but gets the wind knocked out of her, leaving her gasping as she leans against the nearest train car.    
  
“You okay?” Matthew asks as he walks up.  
  
“The best things in life leave you breathless, right?” she wheezes out, and is rewarded by a sweet smile.  
  
“I'm glad you feel that way, because I got something for you,” Matthew answers.  Shit, more Yakuza are coming.  Matthew playfully flicks up her cowl and offers her a hand up, and they are back in the fight.  
  
This time they get the element of surprise by hiding in the nearby warehouse, swinging down from the rafters only after the Yakuza have wasted most of their bullets.  Still, the odds are not in their favour when the enemy keeps coming in droves, armed with knives, chains, and semi-automatic weapons.  Elektra cheats a little and points the gun she just took off the Yakuza goon back at him.  The gun clicks but nothing comes out — empty.  “It’s your lucky day,” she tells the guy, and knocks him out with a punch to the head.  
  
The constant need to pull her strikes makes Elektra just a tad too slow, and tonight she pays for it with a slash to her arm and a nasty gash on her neck.  On the plus side, Matthew comes out unscathed and hasn’t needed to call his nurse friend all week, so Elektra counts that as a win.  

*~*~*

  
  
It takes four stitches to close the wound on Elektra’s neck.  Another inch to the front and it would have severed her carotid artery, another inch to the back and it would have struck her spine.  Matt turns his thoughts away from that particular track, and instead concentrates on keeping his hands steady and his stitches even.  
  
“Do you think this one will scar?” Elektra asks as he finishes.  
  
“Don’t they all,” he answers.    
  
“We make a good team, Matthew,” Elektra points out.  Matt smiles but isn’t quite ready to answer her in words.  Instead he hands her a kitchen towel and tells her to keep pressure on the wound.  
  
They move over to his couch and compare a few more scars.  It’s refreshing to share this part of his life with someone who understands, who doesn’t run away in panic or try to stop him from getting hurt.  
  
“Where did you go Elektra?” Matt finally works up the courage to ask.  
  
“As far away from you as I could,” she answers, and he’s never heard such heartbreaking vulnerability in her voice.  
  
Elektra takes a deep breath and resumes in a lighter tone.  “I travelled a lot in Europe and the Far East.  Went to Kyoto University for two years and got most of a degree in computer science.”  
  
“Most?”  
  
“I already had an MBA from Harvard and a law degree from Cambridge, it wouldn’t do for a debutante to seem _too_ smart.”  
  
Of all the places Matt imagined Elektra over the years, a university computer lab had never been one of them.  “Well, that explains the Japanese, and how you planted the bug in Roxxon’s servers and disabled their security cams.  I just assumed you hired a hacker to make those doodads for you.”  
  
“Oh Matthew,” she says, and he can hear the exaggerated pout in her voice.  “You give me so little credit!”  
  
“Sorry,” Matt says, raising both hands in mock surrender.  “I promise to never doubt your genius again!”    
  
“So what did you do the rest of the time?”  
  
“For a while I worked as a corporate consultant,” Elektra answers.  
  
“Oh?  As in telling big companies how to streamline their operations, and how many people to lay off next quarter?”  
  
“Exactly.  I was good at it but it got boring pretty quick.  One time I told this roomful of entitled CEOs that the best cost-saving measure was to stop exploiting their over-worked wage slaves, and eliminate their own bonuses instead.”  
  
Matt chuckles, “Bet that went over well.”  
  
“I got a lot fewer corporate gigs after that.  I didn’t really mind.”  
  
They talk, they laugh, they reminisce while drinking his inferior German beer.  It feels good to have her on his couch.  As a friend, as a partner in arms, as part of his life.  
  
“So, in all that traveling, did you find whatever you were looking for?” he asks.  
  
“Mostly I found that I was alone,” Elektra tells him.  All the vulnerability packed into that simple sentence stuns him.  
   
Matt finally asks the question that’s been haunting him for the past ten years.  “Why didn’t you come back?”  
  
“Because you don’t know what I know," Elektra answers.  "Because you deserve better.” 

Matt knows that Elektra’s just bared her soul.  His heart aches for her, but he can’t find the right words in answer.  Instead he reaches for her hand and squeezes, and Elektra lets out a tiny sigh as she rests her cheek against his shoulder.  For long moments they stay like that, the weight of her body nestled against his so achingly familiar that it brings a lump to his throat.  Matt doesn’t realize he’s been unconsciously leaning toward her until he feels the soft puff of her breath against his face, until their lips are only a few dangerous inches apart.    
  
Elektra shifts to look him full in the face, and he can taste the sharp spike of her arousal as she breathes him in.  Matt knows that he’s on the brink of making a huge mistake, that what he’s about to do isn’t fair to Karen, or Elektra, or himself.  Yet they’re still falling toward each other in slow motion, inevitable as the pull of gravity.  At the last second, Elektra turns her head just enough to avoid the kiss.  Her hair brushes his shoulder softly as she pulls away.     
  
“You have an early day in court tomorrow,” Elektra says as they spring apart.  
  
“You should get some rest,” Matt blurts out at the same time.  
  
They busy themselves with pillows and blankets and making the couch comfortable for the night, carefully not touching as they move around each other.  A few minutes later Elektra bids him goodnight as she stretches out on his couch and pretends to instantly fall asleep.  
  
Matt should be climbing into his own bed and resting up for the Castle trial.  Instead he stays rooted in his armchair and lets his thoughts wander.   
  
_Elektra Natchios is crashing on his couch._  
  
An Elektra he’d never known in college, but who had been hiding there all along.  Under the veneer of the spoiled, rich brat there’s a brilliant mind.  A seasoned warrior with just as many battle scars as him.  A lonely woman who wants him to return her love.  
  
Matt doesn’t think about what the past ten years might have been like if she’d never left.  
  
He doesn’t think about kissing each one of her scars, as though his tenderness might undo the violence that made them.  
  
All he does is sit and listen to the breath moving in and out of her lungs, the sweet torture of her chest rising and falling.  Some time after Elektra drifts off into true sleep, he does too.

*~*~*


	7. Chapter 7

*~*~*

It's all his fault.    
  
They discovered an endless, yawning pit in the foundation of the Midland Circle building.  “It's got to be 40 stories, at least,” Matt says in awe.  Before Elektra could answer, they’re attacked by honest to God ninjas.  Ninjas who can somehow mask their heartbeats, who descend in droves and nearly kill them both.  
  
Matt shouts “No!” as Elektra grabs a sword and raises it to deliver the killing blow.  She falters for just an instant.  Seconds later the ninja’s blade slashes viciously across her belly.  Elektra falls to the ground, writhing in agony, poison pumping through her veins.    
  
Matt is too busy with his own fight to help.  Two of the ninjas lock his arms in place and pummel him with punch after punch.  A third one steps in front and grips Matt’s chin, raising his katana for the kill.  Matt’s so battered that it takes him a moment to realize that the blow never comes.  Instead, he hears a wet, squelching sound as his attacker is skewered through the chest.  Their saviour makes short work of the remaining two ninjas, knocking one to the ground, and kicking the other into the giant hole.  
  
“So…” Stick’s familiar voice rings out, “who wants to get the hell out of here?”  
  
They fend off another wave of ninjas during the car ride home.  Elektra’s screams of pain fill Matt’s ears.  All he can do is hold her tight, feeling so Goddamn helpless.    
   
By the time they make it to his apartment Elektra’s heart is skipping beats and heading towards tachycardia.  “Those blades were poisoned,” Stick informs him.  “The toxins in her bloodstream are shutting everything down.”  
  
“Matthew…” Elektra gasps out, “If I die…”  
  
“No, no, you’re not going to die,” Matt insists.  He can’t lose her now, can’t imagine a world without her in it.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you…”  
   
“Do you want to talk or save your girlfriend?” Stick interrupts.  “She'll be dead in 20 minutes if I don't pull some serious juju out of my ass.”  Stick whips up some sort of healing concoction with whiskey, baking soda, and toilet bowl cleaner.  He pulls Elektra’s wound wide open with a pair of pliers and pours the whole thing in.  Matt winces as she screams, he can actually smell her flesh smoking as the last of the mixture burns away.  
   
Matt clutches Elektra’s hand in his and prays.  His own hands are still covered in blood from trying to staunch her wounds.  _“Dear God, please let her live.  I’ll give anything…”_  
  
“Matty,” Stick’s voice drags him out of his own thoughts.  “Use that hearing of yours.  How's her heart rate?”  
  
Matt holds still and listens to Elektra’s heart.  “It's good, it’s steady,” he breathes out in relief.  She’s going to live.  
  
Karen is a cherished friend he could grow to love, but he _needs_ Elektra the way he needs oxygen.  
  
If she died, he would too.  Matt felt it with absolute certainty.  His lungs would keep breathing and his heart would go on beating.  He’d still put on his lawyer’s suit during the day and the Daredevil suit at night.  But on the inside where it truly mattered, he would be gone too.

  
  
*~*~*


	8. Chapter 8

*~*~*

Elektra’s world shrinks to nothing but pain and the two voices around her.  Stick and Matthew, telling her to hold on, to draw in one more breath no matter how much it hurts.  Something is poured into her wound and it burns like fire.  Elektra screams until the darkness takes over, replaced by fever dreams full of memories.

*~*~*

  
**Thirty Years Ago**

  
Stick wasn’t supposed to have favourites, but Ellie knew he liked her best.  She was only six but she was starting to out-fight kids twice her age.  She trained harder and longer than anyone else, because she wanted Stick to be proud of her, and because she never wanted to be back on the streets again.  
   
 “What is the Black Sky?” Stick asked.  
  
“It is our greatest enemy and must be stopped at all costs,” Ellie answered from memory.  
  
“What is your duty to the Chaste?”  
  
“To study and train as hard as I can, so I will be a mighty warrior in the coming War.”  Still, some types of training were more fun than others.  The kind that involved reading and reciting was boring and made her butt fall asleep from sitting too long.  “When can we get back to fight training?” Ellie broke in impatiently.  “I want to practice those butterfly kicks you taught me yesterday!”  
  
“Patience, child.  Training your mind is just as important as training your body.  Did you finish memorizing chapter 14 of the Art of War last night?”  
  
“Yes,” Ellie answered in resignation and started reciting.  “Sun Tzu says ‘The good fighters of old first put themselves beyond the possibility of defeat, then waited for an opportunity to defeat the enemy…’”  
  
Absent-mindedly, Stick reached up to tousle her hair.  Ellie went on reciting without pause, careful not to smile, or look up, or give any indication that she noticed this sign of affection.  Last time she made that mistake Stick got all gruff and embarrassed and ordered her to do 50 push-ups.    
  
Stick was better than any mommy or daddy the orphanages had once promised her.  Stick was her teacher and her friend.  He swore he’d never leave her, and Ellie swore she’d always obey him and stay by his side.   

*~*~*

 **Ten Years Ago**  
  
Elektra knew it was love the moment she walked away.  
  
For weeks before this, she had deluded herself that this was nothing more than lust. She was simply having her own fun before delivering Matthew back to Stick. Before the Chaste could reclaim this beautiful boy, snuff out his light, and turn him into someone as cold and soulless as herself.  
  
And what could be more fun than a courting gift? Roscoe Sweeney, the man who’d murdered Matthew’s father, all tied up in pretty knots with a noose around his neck. Killing him together was supposed to bind them forever, a searing bright memory that would belong to the two of them alone.  
  
Matthew had been magnificent as he landed blow after blow, finally channeling years of pain and grief into pure rage. She sighed in pleasure as she watched, as the devil in him finally clawed its way into the open.  
  
Sweeney was already knocking on death’s door. His laboured breathing was terribly loud in the silent room; his unconscious body struggled to suck in air through his broken nose, his pulpy, bloodied lips.  
  
“Finish it,” Elektra whispered in Matthew’s ear. So sure that he would obey, that he was just like her on the inside.  
  
But Matthew wasn’t like her after all. Matthew would never cross that final line.  
  
Yes, there was a killer in him straining to get out. But he reined it in.  
  
He reined it in even when she pressed the knife into his hand and said, “Do it for us.”  Even as lust and love and confusion chased each other across his face.  
  
He reined it in and turned away from her. Reached for the phone with shaking hands and dialled '911.'  
  
No, Matthew wasn’t like her… He was someone much better.  
  
“Finish the mission!” Stick’s voice was screaming in her head.  “Get him back no matter what.”  
  
She could reclaim Matthew just by walking across the room. Place her hand over his and gently hang up the phone. Play the whole thing off as a twisted joke that went too far. Lead him to the car and fuck his brains out in the backseat. Afterwards she'd drive him back to his safe, familiar dorm room and tuck him into bed with a soft kiss. By tomorrow morning he’d wake up shaken but relieved, and eager to see her again.  
  
Instead, Elektra walked toward Roscoe Sweeney’s unconscious body and snapped his neck. It was pathetically easy.  
  
Walking out the door and driving away was much harder, but she forced herself to do it quick. Let her body take over before her mind could catch up, before her heart could break.  
  
_“Matthew is not going to forgive me for this,”_ she thought as she envisioned him turning around in that echoing marble foyer, suddenly realizing that he was stranded in a strange house with a dead man.  
  
Except of course he would. He would be angry, and confused, and hurt… and so eager to accept any explanation she cared to offer. So determined to love her no matter what.  
  
No mission was worth the damnation of that bright, beautiful soul.  
  
Elektra kept driving as she reached for the flask of tequila in her glove compartment. She’ll need to deal with Stick and the Chaste’s vengeance sooner or later. Eventually they might even make more attempts to bring Matthew back into the fold.  
  
But for tonight at least, whether he knew it or not, Matthew was safe. Safe from her.  Safe from the Chaste and the Hand’s endless War.  Safe from the darkness that chips away at your soul with each life taken. Elektra raised her flask and gunned the engine. Ahead of her there was only darkness.

  
  
*~*~*

 **Now**  
  
Elektra let out a soft groan as she claws her way back to consciousness.  Her entire mid-section feels like it’s been ripped open, but the pain is tolerable if she stays still and doesn’t breathe too deeply.  
  
Outside in the living room, Stick is telling Matthew about the Hand and the Chaste.  Or at least the version of the story full of ancient history and mystical mumbo-jumbo.  Elektra notes with a grim smile that Stick is omitting the part where he sends her out on assassinations, and the part where Stick was a member of the Hand himself until he discovered their ultimate goal and defected to the other side.  Then there’s the part where Stick sent her to recruit Matthew for the Chaste, no matter what his own life plans might have been.  
  
Matthew is the love of her life, not a target to be acquired through seduction and manipulation.  If she wants his love in return, she has to tell him the whole truth, no matter what the consequences may be.  She’d already lost him once, she can’t allow herself make the same mistake again.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Elektra begins as soon as Matthew enters the room.    
  
He cuts her off and asks, “When we met… Was it fate, was it luck, or was I a mission?” 

 _Smart man._ Elektra had hoped for just a little more time to prepare herself.  Stick had better be willing to carry her out, because she won’t have the strength to limp out on her own once Matthew kicks them both to the curb.

“Mission,” she answers in a whisper.  “Stick is not a sentimental man, but he wanted you back. He wanted you to forget about law school, your friends, your city... He thought I could distract you.”

“He was right.”

“No! Because I did the one thing I promised him I'd never do. I fell in love with you, Matthew!”  Whatever happens, she needs him to know that much is true.

“When you were hurt, when I thought I might lose you, I… I felt hollow,” Matthew confesses.  The look on his face is the same one she remembers from ten years ago.  The one that says she’s the most precious thing in the world and he’ll never let her go.

“I have no reason to trust you,” Matthew continues.  “You've lied to me more times than I can count.  But if you leave Stick, be with me.  Fight this war by my side.  My way.  Our way.”

Elektra’s heart stops for a moment in sudden wonder.  “Why are you so good?” she asks.  How can someone who’s seen the evils of this world stay so pure and so open-hearted? 

“There's a light inside you,” she tells Matthew as she caresses his face.  “I tried to snuff it out in college.  I'm so lucky I failed.”

If she’s going to be worthy of Matthew, she’ll need to tell him everything. 

Elektra has never been so terrified of anything in her life.

  
  
*~*~*


	9. Chapter 9

*~*~*

Elektra wakes again in pain and darkness.  For a moment panic threatens to set in, then Matthew’s soft voice finds her.  
  
“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay… I’m here,”  He flicks on the bedside lamp, and Elektra sees nothing but tenderness and concern on his tired face.  “Sorry about the lack of light, guess I’ve gotten used to being on my own.”  
  
Elektra tries to sit up and regrets it instantly.  Matthew carefully helps her up, and props several pillows behind her back.  
  
“How’s the pain?” he asks, pressing a glass of water into her hand.  
  
“Manageable.  Never had an abdominal wound this deep before.  Moving anything hurts, including breathing.”  
  
“Yeah,” Matthew grimaces in sympathy.  “I was laid up for a full week after the fight with Nobu.  Those cuts were nasty, but at least they were shallower than yours." 

"Stick says you’ll make a full recovery,” he assures her.  “All the poison is out of your system.  Now you just need time to heal and rest.”  
  
“Good to know.”  Elektra takes a deep breath and plunges ahead, “Sorry about your girlfriend walking in earlier.”  
   
Matthew shrugs, “I’m pretty sure Karen’s not my girlfriend anymore.”  
  
“You should talk to her,” Elektra insists, “At the very least you owe her a proper explanation.”  Elektra’s not sure why she cares about her rival’s hurt feelings.  She just knows how excruciatingly painful it was to lose Matthew.  
  
“Yeah, you’re right.  I’ll talk to her after court tomorrow.”  
  
“Good luck with the case.  Do you think Frank Castle has a chance?”  
  
“Of acquittal?  I doubt it.  But we’ll do our best… even if our client rightfully belongs behind bars.”  
  
Elektra winces inwardly.  Her hands are covered in just as much blood as the Punisher’s, and soon she’ll need to confess all her crimes to Matthew.  “Do you have any painkillers?” she asks instead.  
  
“Claire left some of the good stuff last time she was here.  They should help you sleep too.”  Matthew rummages in his medicine cabinet and returns with the pills.  Elektra gratefully swallows them with the last of her water.  
  
“Is there anything else you need?”  
  
“You could get in beside me?” she tries with a smile.  It’s a sad attempt at flirtation, but at least Matthew smiles back.  
  
“Sorry, but I won’t be able to forgive myself if we make your injury any worse.  I promise to make it up to you when you’re fully recovered,” Matthew adds, and his smile takes on a wicked little edge.  
  
“If I decide to leave Stick and stay with you,” Elektra clarifies.  
  
“Yes.  I know it’s a lot to ask, but please think about it?  Anyway, you should have the bed all to yourself tonight.  I’ll be fine on the couch.”  
  
“Where’s Stick going to sleep then?”  
  
Matthew shrugs, “He was always telling us to avoid creature comforts, so he can make do with a sleeping bag on the floor.”  
  
Elektra chuckles at that, even though laughing hurts too.  Matthew joins her and for a moment it feels like they’re two school kids mocking the teacher behind his back.  
  
“I can hear you,” Stick informs them from the living room, and that just makes them laugh harder.  
  
“Matthew?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Can you stay until I fall asleep?”  
  
“Yes of course,” Matthew scoots his chair closer and holds her hand, his other hand reaches out to stroke her hair.  Elektra gingerly rolls toward him, seeking his warmth, his touch.  She closes her eyes and lets the sound of his breathing fill her ears.  Sooner than she’d like, the painkillers kick in and the warmth of Matthew’s touch fades away.

*~*~*

Elektra has only loved three people in her entire life:  
  
Stick  
Christina Natchios  
Matthew Michael Murdock  
  
Her adoptive mother is long dead.  Now she has to choose between the man she loves and the one who trained and raised her.    
  
The choice is clear, even if it isn’t easy.  She wants to wake up in this bed every day, with Matthew curled up beside her.  She wants to know the streets of Hell’s Kitchen as well as he does.  She wants to belong with Matthew, now and always.  
  
“You've got to feel like shit,” Stick says as she stumbles into the living room.  “Go back to bed.”  
  
“Not until we have a little talk,” Elektra insists.  
  
“Gotta hand it to you kid.  Never seen anyone piss off a multi-national corporation and the Yakuza just to get an old boyfriend back,” Stick tells her as he cores yet another apple with his knife.  “Now that you’ve stirred up the Hand, it’s time to heal up and get the hell out of New York City.”  
  
“I’m not coming back with you.  I’m staying right here, with Matthew.”  
  
Stick heaves a long-suffering sigh, “Don’t be stupid Ellie.”  
  
“When I was six, you took me off the streets of Bangkok and put a roof over my head.  You taught me to fight, you gave me a purpose, and I’ll always be grateful for that.  But I’ve already given you 30 years of my loyalty.  Risked my life on countless missions without even asking why.   My debt to you and the Chaste is paid in full.  I quit.”    
  
“You can’t quit this war, child.  Not now when it’s finally starting in earnest.”  
  
“I’m not quitting the war, just the Chaste,” Elektra tells him as she draws up to her full height.  “I’m going to fight beside Matthew and defend New York.”  
  
“Matt Murdock is soft.  He made you soft.  You let your guard down….” Stick heaves another sigh, as if tired of this argument.  “Go back to bed, Ellie.”  
  
“I’m not a child.”  
  
“You can’t be with him.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Because the good little Catholic in Matty could never stand a killer.  Do you even know what your body count is?”  
  
Elektra stopped counting long ago.  She’s only ever killed in self defence, on missions for Stick, and to remove those who got in the way of completing those missions.  Over the years that’s added up to a lot of death.  
  
“We’ve been waging a secret war all these years,” she tries, “Fighting the Hand’s soldiers is not the same as killing innocent civilians.  Especially not when it prevents more deaths.  Matthew has to understand that if I just explained it properly…”  
  
“I’ve tried for years.  Hasn’t worked so far.”  
  
“Well then, I’ll just have to stop killing,” Elektra answers.  
  
Stick laughs long and hard at that, guffawing so much that he loses his breath.  “Ellie, you’re a weapon.  Have been from birth.  You can’t change what you are any more than you can grow a second head.”  
  
“Matthew thinks I can change.  And I believe him.  He loves me and I love him.”  
  
“ _Mazel tov!_ ” Stick answers with biting sarcasm.  “All that love will be worth jack shit when the Hand slaughters you both.”  
  
“Get out before I get nasty,” Elektra threatens.  Things do get nasty after that.  Elektra throws Stick’s bag to the floor and slaps him hard across the face.  Stick finally leaves, throwing this parting line over his shoulder, “You’re just swapping one blind man for a younger one.  It’s going to get you both killed.”  
  
Elektra’s wound re-opens by the time she staggers back to bed.  For once, the physical pain is a welcome distraction from the doubts running through her head.  She keeps pressure on it until the bleeding stops, then gingerly changes her old bandages for new ones.    
  
On TV a news anchor is reporting the latest developments in the Punisher trial.  “We’ve just received reports that Frank Castle has pled guilty on the stand.  Quote ‘I’m guilty!  I’m guilty!  I’ll kill every single one of them!’”  
  
Elektra snaps off the TV and curls around her wounded belly into the fetal position.  Eventually the scent of Matthew all around her lulls her into fitful sleep.

*~*~*

The jury returns in record time and Frank Castle is found guilty on all charges.  In the end, Castle’s own testimony damned him so utterly that Matt’s negligence during the trial wouldn’t have made any difference.  That’s no consolation to Matt, and certainly makes no difference to Foggy and Karen.  
  
“I’m glad we lost,” Foggy tells him before storming off, “You hear me? I'm glad.”  The firm of Nelson and Murdock is finished, and this time Karen won’t be salvaging their sign from the garbage can because Karen is done with him as well. 

“This city needs heroes,” she tells Matt, “but you're not one of them.”  
  
It really is over.  Matt’s just lost the biggest trial of his career, any sort of relationship with Karen, as well as his business partner and best friend.  Matt knows he’s in shock and all of this will hurt more later, but right now he can’t bring himself to care.  Right now he just needs to get home as quickly as possible and find out the answer to one question….  
  
_'I_ _s Elektra still there?'_  
  
Matt steps through his front door and finds Stick’s knife plunged into the table, but no trace of Stick’s voice or heartbeat.  In the bedroom Elektra is curled up on her side, seeming so small and vulnerable.  
  
“Where’s Stick?” Matt asks just to be certain.  
   
“I made my choice. He didn't like it.”  Matt can tell from her voice that she’s been crying, he also knows Elektra would hate him knowing that.  
  
“I want to be with you,” she continues softly.  “The only person in this world who believes I'm good.”  Matt sits down beside her and tenderness floods his heart.  His hand finds hers, and her grip is warm and strong.    
  
“You lost today,” she says softly.  
  
“It doesn't matter.”  
  
“You lost more than just the case.”  
  
“Yeah.  I didn't lose you.”  Just this quiet moment with her is enough to make up for all the terrible losses of this day.  Matt can’t stop touching her hair, her shoulder, just to reassure himself that she’s alive, and here, and his to keep.    
  
“How does this work?” Elektra asks, “You and me.  How can we make it work?”  
  
“We’re going to figure it out,” Matt answers, and he’s never been more certain of anything in his life.  
  
“Not now though.  Right now you need to rest.”  Matt kisses her on the forehead and gets up reluctantly.  Elektra holds onto his hand just a moment longer, her fingers slipping from his grasp one by one.

*~*~*


	10. Chapter 10

*~*~*

Matt slides his bedroom door closed with a smile.  
  
All the weeks of doubt and confusion have fallen away like cobwebs, leaving one crystal clear conclusion:  
  
_She loves him._  
_He loves her._  
_The rest they can work out in time._  
  
Of course nothing good ever lasts in his life.  Before he can draw his next breath, there’s a sudden _swish_ through the air, and an assassin’s arrow pierces his shoulder.  For an instant Matt just stands there, swaying from shock as the pain blossoms.  A second arrow thuds into the wall a hair’s breadth from his head, and Matt springs into action.  
  
The fight is hard and brutal.  Matt wrestles the bow out of the assassin’s hand but gets knocked to the ground.  There’s a distinct sound of metal on metal as the assassin pulls a very large, very sharp sword from its scabbard.  Elektra tries to help, but the ninja kicks her hard in her wounded mid-section and she’s knocked back into the bedroom.  Matt quickly steers the battle into the living room and away from Elektra.  He gets knocked down twice more, and it gets harder to stand up each time.  He’s still losing blood and fighting with everything he’s got just to stay alive.    
  
Matt knocks the sword out of the assassin’s hand, and his attacker retaliates with a volley of throwing stars.  Matt ducks just in time, and the  _shuriken_ fly through the air with lethal little hisses and thud into his walls.  The second round he blocks by using his coffee table as an impromptu shield.  While the assassin is reaching for his next weapon, Matt tackles him with a chokehold and a vicious kick to the knee.  He throws the man hard to the ground, and the assassin is finally down.

“Who do you work for?!” Matt demands as he rips off the assassin’s mask, “Who sent you?”

Light, quick heartbeats, getting faster with panic.  It takes a while to penetrate, but Matt realizes what he’s been hearing throughout the fight.  The assassin who came so close to killing him is just a teenager.  Hardly older than a boy.    
  
There’s a faint, metallic sound as Elektra pulls Stick’s knife out of the coffee table.  “Elektra, no!” he shouts, but this time it’s too late.  She’s already slashed the boy’s throat, the wound too deep and wide to be anything but lethal.  
  
Matt can’t see, but he smells the boy’s blood everywhere.  On the couch, on Elektra’s face and body, on his own shaking, upraised hands.

Just a few feet away, the assassin’s lifeblood is still spurting out.  Matt hears the death rattle escape from his slit throat, then silence.  
  
“This is who I am,” Elektra says uncertainly, “Do you still want me?”  
  
Matt is grateful that he loses consciousness before having to answer.  

*~*~*

Matthew drifts in and out of consciousness for the next two days.  Elektra tends his wounds and keeps him comfortable.  She calls in a cleaning crew to remove all traces of the assassin from the apartment.  The rest of the time she practices the healing meditations Stick taught her long ago, and is mostly back to her old self by the time Matthew finally wakes up.  
  
Elektra rushes to Matthew’s side and gently eases him into a sitting position.  “Where is he?” are the first words out of Matthew’s mouth.  
  
“Stick?” she asks, deliberately mis-understanding the question and stalling for time, “He left, remember?”  
  
“Not Stick.  The boy. The one you killed.”  
  
“It's... been taken care of,” she answers, carefully choosing the most neutral words she could think of.  
  
“Not ‘it.'  He,” Matthew presses on.  
  
“He tried to kill you,” Elektra says, stating the obvious, “I killed him in self defence. Even your precious court of law would say that's legitimate.”  
  
“Your adrenaline spiked, Elektra.  You enjoy killing.  You may say you want to be good for me, but that's not who you really are, is it?”

Elektra supposes it’s true.  Of course her adrenaline spiked during the fight, that’s a survival response beyond anyone’s conscious control.  But killing _is_ a choice, and it’s one she’s made over and over.  When the choice is between saving Matthew’s life and losing his love, she has no option but to choose the former.  
  
Elektra knows that the right strategy is to keep claiming self defence.  They were both injured, and the assassin was temporarily down but not even restrained.  She killed the boy before he could finish his mission.  She killed him because she’d done his job many times before, and her own blade never failed to find its mark.  
  
Instead, she tells Matthew this, “The first time I took a life, I was 12 years old.”  Yes, the boy had been bigger and stronger, he’d attacked her with a knife in his hand and murder in his eyes.  But she was a more skilled fighter than him.  She could have brought him down with a broken arm or shattered knee-cap.  Instead, she’d chosen to slit his throat because Stick had taught her that half-measures were useless.  That she’d never be a real soldier in the War until she learned to finish the fight at all costs.  
  
“I did it because I needed to know that I could,” she confesses.  “Know that I could get away with it.  Know that I could get used to it.”  Matthew’s the last person who wants to hear this, but if he’s going to despise her, he might as well know the whole truth.  
  
“We have to stop corrupting each other,” Matthew says, predictably.  “We can't do this anymore.”  
  
Knowing that a blow to the heart is coming doesn’t make it hurt any less.  Elektra feels like she’s back in that moment in Roscoe Sweeney’s mansion, where everything suddenly tilted and will never be the same again.  Moments before they were in love, now they stood on opposite sides of an impassable divide.    
  
“Say something,” Matthew demands.  
  
“The Hand will decimate your city,” Elektra says softly.  Tears are prickling behind her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall.  
  
“Not if I stop them,” Matthew answers, stubborn as ever.  
  
“You'll die.”  _Because you have no idea what dangers you’re facing. Because you won’t let me fight with you.  Hate me all you want, but at least let me help you survive what’s coming._  
  
“Yeah, maybe.  But this is a war I need to fight alone.” Matthew’s voice carries no trace of the fragile tenderness they’d built over the past few days.  He’s shut himself away again, remote and untouchable. 

“Goodbye, Elektra,” Matthew says, the last words she’ll ever hear from those lips.   
  
Elektra forces her body to move, to walk out the door without looking back.  She scrubs useless tears from her face as she hurries down the stairs, and hails the first cab she sees for the airport.  The Hand will spring their traps.  Matthew will fight with his last breath to save the innocent, only to end up dying alone.  She wants to be as far away as possible when that happens, when New York finally burns.  

  
  
*~*~*


	11. Chapter 11

*~*~*

“Bless me Father for I have sinned, it’s been nine days since my last confession,” Matt says automatically as Father Lantom enters the booth.  
  
“Hello Matthew,” Father Lantom answers.  Both of them gave up the pretence of the confessional’s anonymity long ago.  “What’s on your mind today?”  
  
“A man was killed in my apartment a few nights ago.  A teenager, actually.”  
  
“Did you take his life?”  
  
“No, it was my girlfr-, my former… it was Elektra.  To be fair the teenager was an assassin who tried to kill me.”  
  
“So she was defending your life.”  
  
“Not in that moment.  I had the boy subdued, she didn’t need to do it.”  Matt takes a deep breath and forces himself to continue, “What bothers me most is that being a killer is part of her identity.  She told me that she first killed someone when she was 12 years old, and she hasn’t stopped since then.  She acted so quickly, as if she was butchering an animal… as if taking a human life meant nothing.”  
  
“What happened afterwards?” Father Lantom asks, his voice still calm and measured.  
  
“After that I passed out.  I don’t remember much, but I know she took care of me, called in a cleaning crew to dispose of the body…  When I came to I sent her away.  This time it’s for good.”  
  
“Interesting choice of words,” Father Lantom muses.  “Do you think sending her away was the best choice for you, for her, or for the city?"  
  
“I don’t know,” Matt answers honestly.  “I just knew that I shouldn’t be around her anymore, that we had to stop corrupting each other…  What made it worse is that right before the assassin showed up, I realized that I loved her.  We were going to try and build a life together.”  
  
“Do you love her still?”  
  
“Yes,” Matt answers honestly, “I know I shouldn’t, but I do.”  
  
“Does she love you?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
The door of the confessional opens on the priest’s side and Matt is momentarily confused.  Then Father Lantom opens the parishioner’s door and offers him a hand up.  “You’re not here for confession, son, you’re here for relationship advice.  And that’s better done over coffee in my office than in this tiny, cramped booth.”  
  
“I ministered to a rag-tag army of child soldiers during my time in Africa,” Father Lantom tells Matt in his office.  “Some of them were the most terrifying people I’ve ever met.  They pulled the trigger without mercy, without compunction, their eyes seemed so cold and soulless.  Yet they were still children.  Just kids who had seen and done things that no one should endure.  Eight-year-olds and ten-year-olds who would be laughing and playing and going to school, if not for the misfortune of being born into a war zone.  As adults, some of them are kind and productive citizens.  Others have not adjusted to peacetime so easily.  Either way, they all bear emotional and psychological scars that will last the rest of their lives.  It sounds like your Elektra went through something quite similar when she was young.”  
   
“Well, she was raised by Stick,” Matt says, a lot of things falling into place as he hears the words spoken out loud.  “The same man who trained me.  The sociopath who told me to cut all ties to the rest of humanity.  He came to New York last year and ordered me to kill a boy just because they called him the Black Sky.”  Stick hasn’t been Matt’s mentor for decades, yet Matt’s still prying the old man’s influence out of his head.  If Stick raised Elektra when she was even younger and trained her longer, if he was the closest thing she ever had to a loving parent, who knows what twisted values she would have been indoctrinated with.  
  
“And?” Father Lantom prods.  
   
“And she cut her ties with Stick in order to be with me.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“She said she wants to be good, for me,” Matthew admits softly.  
  
“Do you believe her?”  
  
“Yes… But I don’t know if she _can_ be, not when it comes to ‘Thou shalt not kill.’”  
  
“Sounds like you have just as much influence over Elektra as she does over you, if not more,” Father Lantom points out.  “I know you try very hard not to take any lives in your other line of work, but you did set that Japanese man on fire last year.”  
  
“Nobu?  Yes, I did,” Matt admits uncomfortably.  “But he was about to kill me, and I just reacted without thinking…  Are you saying that I’m like Elektra and Stick?”  
  
“No.  I’m saying that you could probably imagine yourself in her position if you tried harder.  Instead of focusing on what Elektra might do to you and your morality, practice some compassion and see what you might do for her.”  
  
Matt tries to imagine himself into Elektra’s life.  What might he have been like if Stick had trained him for many years instead of just the one?  If he didn’t have the church and the memory of a loving father to anchor him?  He imagines himself juggling conflicting loyalties.  Fighting years of training and his own instinct to go for the death blow, to survive at any cost.  It was an impossible dilemma.  
  
Matt shakes his head and lets out a long sigh, “I have no idea what I would do in her position.  Seems like there are no good choices.”  
  
“Seems like she chose you.”  
  
“But I can’t act as someone else’s moral compass, that has to come from within,” Matt protests.  “Besides, I always feel like I’m about to lose control over myself when I’m around her.”  
  
Father Lantom lets out a fond chuckle, “Oh Matthew, love is never about staying in control.  It’s about trusting someone enough to let yourself fall.”  For a moment Matt is caught off guard, stunned into silence as the truth of those words sink in.      
  
“During your last confession,” Father Lantom continues, “You told me that Elektra was partnering with you to fight the Yakuza and making the city safer.”  
  
“Yeah, that’s all true, but it’s also what I told myself to justify spending time with her,” Matt smiles wistfully, finally admitting the truth to himself.  “The real reason is that every moment we’re together, I feel more alive than I ever have before.  Does that make me selfish?”  
  
“No, Matthew,” Father Lantom answers patiently, “It just makes you a man in love.”  
  
“Many religions say that all the love we experience on earth is a reflection of God’s love for humanity.  Whether it’s the love of a parent for a child, or a lover for his partner, true love can never be wrong because it is always a part of God’s will.”  
  
“But the woman I love is still a killer,” Matt points out.  
  
“All the lives Elektra has taken is something she’ll have to reckon with.  But that’s between her and God… whichever version of Him she believes in.”  
  
“So you don’t think I should give up on her?”  
  
Matt can hear the smile in Father Lantom’s voice when he answers, “I think you should at least give her a call.”

*~*~*

Despite her oversized sunglasses, covered hair, and obvious _'Leave me the hell alone'_ vibe, some idiot starts hitting on Elektra at the airport bar.  At least the man is tall and dark, speaks good French, and has the decency to keep the tequila flowing.    
  
“I can draw you a bath,” he offers with a suggestive smile.  So, they’ve reached the innuendo stage already.  
  
“In a tub for two?” Elektra asks, playing along.  
  
“But of course.”  
  
“How nice, I get so lonely.”  Matthew will never want her again now that he's seen her true nature.  There are worse ways to distract herself from pain tonight.  
  
“I guarantee that will not be a problem,” her suitor continues with a smile.  
  
Well then. _“New York, c’est fini.  Et bonjour…?”_  
  
“Jacques. Jacques Duchamps.”  
  
“Louise Badeaux,” she offers, giving the same fake name as her passport.  
  
“Funny, I thought your name was Elektra,” Jacques says, and she freezes in surprise.  A moment later Elektra’s almost glad.  She needs a good fight more than she wants a meaningless fuck.  And if things don’t go her way… well, there isn’t much left to live for anyhow.  
  
“Are you going to try to kill me?”  
  
“Something like that,” Jacques answers with a nod.  
  
Elektra downs the last of her drink and takes off her scarf, “It’s rude to keep a girl waiting.”  
  
Elektra gets the advantage early on with a roundhouse kick that sends Jacques crashing into the bar.  But the man has 80 pounds on her and knows how to use it.  They trade blow after blow, Jacques won’t stay down and neither will she.  She jumps over an airplane wing and gets her legs around him in a triangle choke, even as Jacques wraps a hand around her throat and chokes her in return.  He slams her down hard, and Elektra falls to the ground winded.  
  
Jacques makes his last mistake when he pulls a pair of sai from his jacket.  No way is some jackass going to take her down using _her_ weapon of choice.  Elektra disarms Jacques and stabs him with one sai in the chest and one through the back.  Not too deep though, first she needs to give him a message.    
  
“Listen to me, asshole.  I don't care what the Hand wants, this is not my war!”  
  
“The Hand didn’t send me…” Jacques gasps out as blood seeps into his lungs, “Stick did.”  
  
Elektra plunges both sai in deeper and _twists_ , and the bastard falls to the ground dead.    
  
So, Matthew hates her and Stick wants her dead.  Stick, who raised her since she was six years old; who set her task after impossible task that she’s never failed to complete.  In the end the old man didn’t even have the decency to face her himself.  Elektra grips her sai tight as she stands over Jacques' cooling body, and it’s the best she’s felt all day.    
  
She wipes the blood off her weapons, and sets herself one more mission before leaving New York — Kill Stick. 

 

*~*~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> “ _New York, c’est fini. Et bonjour…?_ " = "New York, it's over. And hello...?"
> 
> *~*~*  
> In the show, Matt's attitude towards Elektra does a 180 turn between breaking up with her and the next time they see each other, with no real explanation as to why. The conversation with Father Lantom is my attempt to explain what led him there.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobu kneels before her and shatters her worldview with a single sentence.
> 
> “It’s you, Elektra,” Nobu tells her solemnly. “You are the Black Sky. Our greatest living weapon.”

*~*~*

  
“We need to talk,” Elektra announces when she finally tracks Stick to an abandoned library.  
  
Of course exchanging words is not what either of them has in mind.  Elektra launches herself at Stick with both sai drawn, and he meets her with his sword raised.  They’ve always communicated best while trading blows, but this is no training session with blunted blades and carefully pulled strikes.  One way or the other, this will be the fight that ends it all.    
  
Elektra knows that rage is making her careless, but it’s also lending her strength.  She drives Stick back among the book shelves where her smaller size and maneuverability give her the upper hand.  She lands more blows than she takes, and presses her advantage by driving Stick deeper into the stacks.  Stick ducks her swing and one of her sai gets stuck in the metal of the shelf.  As she’s trying to pull her sai free, Stick seizes his opening and kicks her down.  Seconds later, she’s trapped against a bookshelf with Stick’s sword swinging down toward her neck.  Weaponless, Elektra can only hold off the sword with her hands, and the blade instantly bites through her gloves and into her flesh.  She frees one hand and desperately gropes along the floor for something to use, and finds an abandeoned electrical cord.  She whips it around Stick’s neck and tightens it into a make-shift noose.  Now it’s a deadly contest to see which gives out first: Stick’s air or her bleeding palm.      
  
Matthew arrives out of nowhere and pulls them apart.  Moments later, a team of the Hand’s ninjas descend on all three of them and a chaotic melee ensues.  They hold their own until the library suddenly plunges into total darkness.  By the time Elektra manages to light a match, the ninjas have disappeared along with Stick.  
  
“Why did you interrupt us?” Elektra demands, furious at Matthew for snatching vengeance out of her hands.  
  
“Because you would have killed him.”  
  
“Yes!  Before he killed _me_.”  
  
“Why does Stick want you dead?” Matthew asks.  
  
“What does it matter?”  
  
“It matters because Stick never does anything without a reason.  The Hand didn’t kill him, they captured him, which means he knows something.  And they’re going to rip him to shreds until they find out what it is.”  
  
“Good,” Elektra answers shortly.  
  
“Unless we get there first.”  
  
“You want me to help you save the man who ordered my death?” she asks in disbelief.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“You really do hate me.”  
  
“No Elektra.  This isn’t about you.  I need to know why the Hand took him.  And more importantly, what they’re planning next.”  
  
They argue some more, but Matthew is undeterred from his rescue mission and Elektra refuses to join him.  “I don’t care what Stick did,” Matthew tells her, his voice soft and insistent all at once.  “I’m going to save him.”  In hindsight she should have known that he’s talking about her too, but in the moment it only feels like Matthew’s plunging the knife in deeper by choosing Stick over her.  
  
“Not if I get to Stick first,” she assures him.  “I’m going to kill him.  And if you get in my way Matthew, I’m going to kill you too.”  
  
With nothing left to lose, Elektra seizes the back of Matthew’s neck and kisses him, hard and fierce and desperate.  Matthew kisses her back and they regard each other for a long, tense moment before he turns away to search for Stick’s trail.  
  
Elektra gives him a ten minute head start, then silently follows.

  
*~*~*

  
  
It’s not difficult to track Matthew to the Hand’s underground hideout, she only has to follow the trail of blood and unconscious bodies.  Elektra arrives just as Matthew’s untying a half-conscious Stick and getting ready to leave.    
  
Naturally one can't walk into the lion’s den without alerting the owner, and Nobu and his gang of ninjas surround them before anyone can take a single step.  Elektra readies herself for another fight, but instead Nobu shatters her worldview with a single sentence.  
  
“It’s you, Elektra,” Nobu tells her solemnly, “You are the Black Sky.  Our greatest living weapon.”  
  
Nobu draws a gleaming katana, but rather than attacking, he kneels before her and presents the weapon to her as an offering.  
  
As a child, she'd spent countless hours studying the legends surrounding the Black Sky.  
  
The Chaste says it’s an abomination that should never be allowed to live.  
     
The Hand thinks it’s the second coming and their path to glory.  
     
Now Nobu’s claiming it was her all along and Elektra has no idea what to believe.    
  
All her life, Elektra has fought and bled for Stick and the Chaste, only to be betrayed by the man who raised her like a father.  She’s seen the evils the Hand is capable of, but the Chaste can be equally ruthless, and she has certainly shed innocent blood in service of the greater good.    
  
Elektra would rather turn her back on all of them and leave these lunatics to their unending war.  But since she’s being forced to choose, why not choose the side that wants to lay an army at her feet and follow her every command?  Why not choose power when it’s being offered on a silver platter?  
      
She was never meant to fight the Black Sky, because she _is_ the Black Sky.  
  
She could have a new purpose in life.  Pledge herself to a new family of warriors, where her fury and darkness would be celebrated, with no more questions of right or wrong.  A place where she would be loved and wanted, where she could finally _belong_.  
  
Nobu is still kneeling, patiently waiting for her to make her choice.  Behind her Matthew and Stick are urging her to turn away, but their words are falling on deaf ears.  Elektra reaches for the katana and it feels so right in her hand, like it was made for her, like it’s been waiting all this time.  
  
“You are home now,” Nobu assures her.  
  
“We live and die to serve you Black Sky,” every member of the Hand pledges in Japanese, their words ringing through the room.  Nobu bows low, and like a wave sweeping through the room, each black-clad ninja lays down his sword and kneels before her.  For an instant, Elektra breathes deep and delights in the power coursing through her body.    
  
“The Black Sky is destiny,” Elektra whispers, testing the weight of each word on her tongue.  
  
Of course Matthew has to step in.  Stupid, brave Matthew who never knows when to admit defeat.  
  
“Elektra, no!  You still have a choice,” he implores her, “The woman I know is still in there.”  
  
“Leave me,” Elektra tells him.  Their story may be over, but at least she could use her newfound power to get Matthew and Stick out of here alive.  
  
“I’m not going to leave you,” Matthew insists.  He keeps walking toward her even as she raises her sword.  Keeps taking one step after another until the tip of her blade rests in the hollow of his throat.  
  
“I am the enemy of the Hand,” Matthew says calmly, “So kill me.”  Elektra’s swordpoint wavers and she feels torn in two.  She can’t hurt Matthew any more than she can cut out her own heart.  But she can’t set down the sword either, not with Nobu and the legions of the Hand at their back.    
  
Elektra glances down for a moment and Matthew seizes his opening.  In one lightning-quick motion, he lunges forward and pins her arm behind her back, putting her own sword to her throat to keep the Hand’s ninjas at bay.  Instinctively she moves with him as the Hand surrounds them both, treating him as an ally and not an enemy.  
  
“It's too late,” Elektra tries again, “Let me go.”  
  
“Now you could either try and kill us, and prove them right," Matthew tells her, "Or you could save Stick and prove them wrong.”  
  
Elektra feels an unwilling smile tugging at her lips, “You never know when to give up, do you?”  
  
“No,” he answers.  Elektra takes a deep breath and squeezes Matthew’s hand, and feels him squeeze back in answer.  
  
A second later Stick takes one of the bamboo skewers used to torture him and stabs it into the nearest ninja.  Matthew releases her and launches himself at Nobu.  In the brief moment of confusion that follows, Elektra grabs Stick and runs like hell.

  
*~*~*

It takes everything Elektra has to half-carry, half-drag Stick up ten flights of stairs along the fire escape, down through the roof door, and finally into Matthew’s apartment.  With a sigh of relief, she dumps Stick into the nearest chair as soon as they stumble inside.  
  
“Do you think Matthew will be okay?” Elektra asks as she paces the room.  
  
“Sounded like he was holding his own against Nobu when we skedaddled,” Stick tells her.  “Don’t worry, he’ll be back soon enough.”  
  
“Good,” Elektra answers.  “Because if Matthew just talked me into trading his life for yours, then it’s a piss-poor bargain.”  
  
Stick snorts, “He didn’t come to rescue me, he did it for you.  Matt was trying to save you.”  
  
“I don’t need saving.”   
  
“From _yourself,_ girl,” Stick says impatiently.  “He knew that killing me would be your point of no return.  He still believes that there’s good in you — earn that!“  
  
Elektra pauses mid-step as those words sink in.  Matthew still cares for her, and he might be the only one in this whole mess who sees her as a person rather than a pawn to be wielded or destroyed.  After a few deep breaths, she pulls up a chair and sits face-to-face with Stick.  It was time for some answers.  
   
“Is what Nobu said true?  Am I really the Black Sky?” she demands.  
  
“Afraid so kid.”  
  
“Ever since I was a child, you taught me to hate and fear the Black Sky, that it was our greatest enemy.  And all this time you knew it was me.”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“You have a _very_ twisted sense of humor, Stick!”  
  
Stick shrugs unapologetically, “I’m an asshole who’s good at training fighters.  Never claimed to be any good at raising kids.  Ellie, binding you to the Chaste was the best way of keeping you contained and keeping you alive.  Frankly, I’m amazed it took this long for the Hand to find you.”  
  
“What if I refuse to work for them?  Aren’t there other Black Skies, like the Japanese kid who was shipped here in a cargo container last year?”  
  
“Multiple people are born with the potential to become the Ultimate Weapon, but there can only be one Black Sky at any given time.  Nobu named you and you accepted the katana, there’s no going back now.”

Elektra lets out a deep sigh and resists the urge to drop her head into her hands.  Instead, she pulls out her sai and begins methodically cleaning the blood off of them one tine at a time.  
  
“You should never have come back to New York, Ellie,” Stick says, and there’s just a hint of regret in his voice.  
  
“It didn’t feel like I had a choice.  I couldn’t stop loving Matthew, so I had to try and win him back…  At least he doesn’t seem to hate me anymore.”  
  
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Stick tells her, “Cause the Hand is coming for you both.”  
  
“We might be able to take them on together.”  
  
“The two of you against a hundred undead ninjas?  I trained you both well, but even the pair of you can’t perform miracles.”  
  
“You could help us instead of trying to kill me!” Elektra shoots back, but the rage that had fuelled her for the past few days was slowly draining away.  She’d always known that Stick would sacrifice anyone and anything to stop the Hand, and killing the Black Sky has always been part of that duty.  “At least you weren’t trying to kill me out of petty jealousy for leaving you.”  
  
“Does that make you feel better?”  
  
“Not one bit,” Elektra answers, and the two of them share a quick, grim smile.  “So what are my options?”  
  
“Option one is you become the Black Sky willingly.  Matt and I will fight you and likely get cut down.  But things won’t go well for you either.  If you think working for me and the Chaste has been tough, you ain’t seen nothing yet.  With an active Black Sky the Hand will become invincible.  New York will fall fully under their control, along with other centers of power one after the other.  Some cities will go down in flames.  Others will remain standing while they become riddled with corruption and rot from the inside out.  Eventually the Hand will amass so much power that nothing can stand in their way when they unleash their final act of destruction.”  
  
“Not going to happen,” Elektra tells him shortly.  
  
Stick raises his eyebrows in mild surprise, “You were honestly tempted there for a moment, weren’t you?”  
  
“Yes,” Elektra answers softly.  She still remembers the feel of the katana in her hand, a grip that felt so certain, so right, even as her entire worldview splintered into chaos.    
  
“But Matthew is determined to fight the Hand, and I would die before betraying him.  Besides, I’m really starting to like New York.”  She had found genuine pleasure and purpose in protecting the city alongside Matthew.  The same sense of serving a greater good she’d once felt for the Chaste before becoming dis-illusioned with their methods.  
  
Stick considers her for a long moment before continuing, possibly listening to her heartbeat to test the truth of her words.  “Option two is that you fight the Hand, get captured, and get turned into the Black Sky unwillingly.  Believe me, they’re damn efficient at torture and mind control,” Stick waggles his own mangled fingers in the air and Elektra shudders.  They both know that there are fates far worse than death, and everyone has their breaking point.  “And it's back to doom and destruction courtesy of the Hand,” Stick concludes.  
  
“I can go on the run and stay in hiding,” Elektra counters desperately.  
  
“That’s the last option, and it would have worked a lot better before today.  Still, you’re smart and well-funded.  _If_ you somehow find a way out of New York, you might be able to evade them for a few months, a year if you’re extremely careful and incredibly lucky.  But the Hand has networks all over the world.  Even if you run to the ends of the earth, they’ll find you sooner or later, and we’re all back where we started.”  
  
Elektra swallows hard and fights down the rising tide of fear.  Stick had always told her that she was born to be a weapon, and Elektra had been proud to hone her skills and prove him right.  Only now is she coming to the terrifying realization that a weapon has no say in who wields it or how.  There must be a way out of this, a way to regain control of her own destiny.  
  
As if reading her mind, Stick heaves a sigh and continues, “Ellie, if you don’t want the Hand to win, then there’s only one real choice.”  
  
“Finish what you started and kill myself?” Elektra answers sarcastically.  Yet the look on Stick’s face stops her cold.  In the three decades she’s known him, Elektra has never seen that particular expression on his face: Remorse.    
  
“You really mean it,” Elektra says in a horrified whisper.  
  
“I’m sorry, but it’s the only way,” Stick says, “I wish things could have been different, but —"  
  
“Stop!  Just stop!”  Elektra feels mounting panic clawing at her throat, a helpless, sickening dread worse than any enemy she’s faced in battle.  Without another word, she turns her back on Stick and runs for the roof.  The winter air whips through her hair and chills her to the bone, but it’s still not enough to stop Stick and Nobu’s words from chasing each other in endless circles in her head.

  
*~*~*


	13. Chapter 13

*~*~*

Elektra stands swaying on the rooftop ledge, her toes hanging out over thin air.  She could follow Stick’s advice and end it all with a single step forward.  Destroy the Black Sky and stop the turmoil raging within.  But that feels like a cowards’s way out, and whatever else she may be, Elektra has never been a coward.  
  
She hears Matthew coming up behind her, his footsteps soft and deliberate to avoid startling her.  
  
“Leave me alone, Matthew,” she shoots back without turning around.  The last thing she needs is another person telling her what to believe, what to do, who to be.  
  
Of course Matthew doesn’t listen.  “Just consider the possibility that there’s no such thing as a Black Sky.  That it's nonsense.”  
  
His skepticism is refreshing, but ultimately misplaced.  Elektra has seen far too much to dismiss the Hand’s power as mere mysticism.  
  
“Legend says that once they have the Black Sky they'll be capable of anything,” she tries to explain.  “It's not about what I'm willing to do. Even in a cage I'll be their false idol.  They'll do terrible things in my name because they think the Black Sky will make them invincible.”  
  
“Well, they can't have you,” Matthew insists.  “You don't belong to anyone.  You may be smarter and stronger and more powerful than anyone they've ever met, but like I keep saying, they don't get to tell you who you are.”  
  
Elektra glances up at him, feeling the first stirrings of hope in her chest.  “You would trust me after all I've put you through?” she asks incredulously.  
  
“The Hand's ninjas can mask their heartbeats,” Matthew answers, “Yours is always loud and clear.”  
  
It seems like she still has one ally in the world.  Someone who has faith in her even when she doubts herself.  Someone who sees the light in her and trusts her to make the right choice.  
  
Matthew outlines a strategy to head right back into the lion’s den, capture Nobu without alerting his forces, and expose him and the Hand by throwing him in prison.  “We can take them down,” he tells her.  “Not Stick's way.  We can do it our way.”  
  
It’s a foolhardy plan with a snowball’s chance in hell of success, but right now any chance is enough for Elektra.  Matthew is willing to shield her back and stand by her side, to trust her and fight for her, and she couldn’t ask for anything more.  
  
“So how do we do this?” she asks him.  
  
“Not alone,” he answers. “We do it together.”  
  
Matthew climbs up on the ledge beside her to offer his hand, and Elektra finally allows herself to smile as she takes it.  She has no idea what the future holds, but standing side by side like this is where they both belong.

  
*~*~*

  
Nobu springs his own trap before they get anywhere near him, snatching the twenty people Daredevil once saved as bait to lure him in.    
  
On the nearest rooftop, Matt tries to cast out his senses like a net over the city.  Desperate to find something, anything, that would lead him to the hostages’ location.  He needs to be calm to make this work, but all he can picture in his mind’s eye are the sword slashes gouged deep into the walls of Karen’s bedroom, Brett’s battered face, twenty innocent people being tortured simply for having the misfortune of running into _him_ …  
  
The city roars around him in an overwhelming cacophony.  Screeching tires, blaring TVs, hundreds of voices shouting and laughing and crying.  Matt can barely hold onto his own thoughts as he chases one sound after another, his panic rising higher and higher with every useless lead.    
  
“Slow your breath,” Elektra’s voice cuts through the den of the city and the frantic pounding in his head.  Her hand rubs soothing circles on his back as she kneels beside him, her voice quietly guiding him back to his own center.  
  
“Focus.”  
  
“You'll find them, Matthew.  You’ll find _her._ ”                                                             
  
Matt’s breathing deepens and his heartbeat slows.  For a moment he almost finds it, that Zen-like state where all the sounds of the city flow through him like a river, where he can touch a thousand lives without being swept away.  Suddenly an electrical current surges in the wires overhead, and pain lances through Matt’s head like a javelin.  
   
“I can’t!” Matt gasps out as he lurches to his feet, “I can’t hear anything!  The electricity in this building is too loud.  The city is pulsing —”  
  
“Matthew, it’s your city.  Calm it down.”  Matt holds onto Elektra’s hand and lets her anchor him, the steadiness of her hearbeat lulling him like a metronome.  He shuts his eyes and tries again.    
  
“Tune out everything that’s not essential,” Elektra reminds him, “Now one at a time.”  
  
Matt quickly sorts through and discards the layers of noise surrounding them, letting his hearing expand outwards in a slowly widening ring.  There!  The double _whoop, whoop_ of a police siren.  Matt hones in and suddenly there’s screaming and gunshots and a frantic voice yelling “Officer down!  36th and 7th.  They stuck him with a goddamn arrow, officer down!”  
  
“Got it!” Matt tells Elektra.  The two of them share a quick smile before launching themselves across the rooftop, racing towards their destination.

  
*~*~*

  
_'That’s all of them,'_ Elektra thinks as the last hostage limps into the waiting circle of police and EMTs.  She’s genuinely glad to see Karen Page among them, unharmed and surprisingly capable as she shepherds the other prisoners to safety.  
  
There’s no question that Nobu’s warehouse is a deathtrap, and the hostages no longer matter now that Matthew has taken the bait.  Elektra had tried to talk him out of charging in, knowing all the while that it was pointless.  There’s no way on earth Matthew would sacrifice the lives of innocent people, and no way in hell she could leave him to fight the Hand alone.  
  
Heaving a deep sigh, she pulls out her sai and runs in.  
  
Matthew’s facing off against two ninjas when she enters the room, and Elektra dispatches one with a sai in the back and the other with a quick slash to the neck.  “I got bored,” she tells Matthew, and he shoots her a quick grin before they both turn to deal with the handful of new fighters entering the room.  This is only a prelude to the real battle, a stalling tactic as Nobu gathers all his forces and drives them to his chosen battleground.  
  
“The only way out is up,” Matthew tells her during a lull in the fighting, “Let’s head to the roof.”  
  
They sprint up the stairs until they find a sturdy door.  Matthew shuts and bars it with a clang, giving them a temporary barricade in the stairwell beneath the roof.  Even Elektra can hear all the thudding footsteps above and below them, rank after rank of enemies closing in.    
  
“One thing's for sure, we’re going to die.”  Elektra always knew she’d die early, and most likely at the end of a sword.  But she can’t stand the thought of watching Matthew being cut down, of being helpless to stop it.  
  
“Even if we survive, we may not see each other again,” she begins.  They may only have a few minutes left, but there’s still the chance for a proper goodbye.      
  
A volley of thuds hits the other side of the door and the metal groans on its hinges.  Apparently she’s wrong and their time is truly up.      
  
“Okay, let's do it,” she says.  She’s already hyperventilating a little, wasting precious energy on useless panic.  If they’re going to die anyway, there’s no sense in prolonging the torture.  
  
But Matthew says, “Wait.”  He takes off his helmet and gets down on one knee, like a man who’s about to propose.  “What if from now on, wherever you run, I run with you?”  
  
Elektra almost laughs.  It’s everything she’s ever wanted, and of course it has to come moments before imminent death.  
  
“You’re not serious,” she says without thinking.  
  
“I’ve never been more serious,” Matthew tells her, “I don't know what we are together, and if we have any chance in the future… But I do know that I'm free with you.  Like with no one else.” 

Elektra just sits there and drinks in the sight of him: messy hair, stubbled chin, eyes shining bright with love and devotion.    
  
“You hide from yourself,” she points out.  “You don't let anyone in.”  
  
“You.  I let you in.”  
  
“Think about it,” Matthew continues.  “What if this isn't the end? What if it's just the beginning?”  
  
“No. They'll find us,” Elektra answers, but she’s smiling as she says it.  Her hand reaches up to trace the contours of Matthew’s beautiful face.  Whatever happens next, she’s grateful for this moment.  
  
“We'll keep moving. We'll change identities. We’ll hide and they'll never catch us,” Matthew presses on, “What do you say?” 

It’s the sweetest, most ridiculous offer she’s ever heard.  Yet nobody can talk her into impossible things like Matthew Michael Murdock.    
  
“I say let's go to London,” she answers, finally giving in.  “Madrid, Tunisia… There are sexy places to hide.”  
  
“I've never been further north than 116th Street...”  
  
“Because you love New York.”  
  
“And I'd give my life for it,” Matthew admits, “But there's one thing in this world that makes me feel more alive.  And that's you.”  
  
Elektra closes her eyes for just a moment and lets herself savour the sweetness of those words.  
   
“I’m the Black Sky, Matthew.”  
  
“Yeah, and I'm the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.  The airport's just a cab fare away. All we have to do is survive whatever's waiting for us behind that door.”  
  
“Let’s get out of here,” she answers.    
  
They’re about to face Nobu and the full might of the Hand’s army in a battle with impossible odds.  Yet Elektra’s heart is singing with fierce joy.  A future with Matthew beside her is not only worth fighting for, it’s what she wants to live for.  
  
“One more thing,” Matthew says just before they reach the door to the roof.  He pulls down her cowl and kisses her long and deep.  Elektra closes her eyes and lets the moment sear itself into her memory, a little piece of heaven snatched from the jaws of death.  
  
“Ready?” he asks as they finally pull apart.  
  
“Yes,” she answers as she kicks open the door, “Let’s go kick Nobu’s ass!”

*~*~*


	14. Chapter 14

*~*~*

“No one escapes destiny,” Nobu proclaims in his typically pompous fashion.  His trademark _shoge_ hook dangles from his hands, the gleaming blade whistling through the air as he swings it on its chain.  “You belong to us,” he tells Elektra, “and you belong in the ground!” he tells Matthew.  
  
_‘Over my dead body!’_ Elektra thinks as she and Matthew launch themselves into the fight.  
  
It’s like the world’s most dangerous game of tag, with one of them drawing Nobu’s fire while the other darts in for a strike; all while staying out of range of the wicked  _shoge_ hook.  Nobu lands the first blow early, kicking Elektra to the ground as he advances on Matthew once more.  
  
“Contain the Black Sky!” Nobu commands his army, and the Hand’s ninjas descend on her from all sides.  
  
Normally they would have overwhelmed her with sheer numbers, but the Hand is trying to capture her without serious harm, while Elektra has no compunction about causing harm in return.  _‘Just one more,’_ Elektra reminds herself over and over, slashing at anything that moves, seizing every opening she can find.  She’s never fought more fiercely in her entire life, and her sai find their mark time and again.  Elektra brings down the last man with a leg locked around his neck, and dispatches him with a sai through the eye.  Then the way is finally clear for her to rejoin Matthew’s fight against Nobu.  
  
Fortunately Matthew has already disarmed their foe, and they’re able to move in close for hand to hand combat.  The two of them fall into sync effortlessly, launching one attack after another until a series of spinning kicks forces Nobu to the ground.    
  
“You’re done, Nobu!” Matthew announces, “Your army will crumble, and you will leave my city alone.”  
  
Nobu glares at them both with blood trickling into his eyes.  _Not so invincible after all._  
  
For a moment Elektra dares to hope that they might actually win the day. Defeat Nobu and the rest of the Hand is bound to fall with him.  But their enemy has had several lifetimes to perfect his skills, and this brief respite is all he needs to turn the tide.  Nobu throws himself back into the fight with a vengeance, kicking Elektra’s sai out of her hand and knocking the breath from her lungs as he slams her to the ground.  Before she can recover, Nobu is already on her back and seizing her arm, and Elektra hears the sickening crunch of bone as her shoulder is wrenched from its socket.  Elektra stays down, crumpled on the ground with her face pressed to the concrete.  Through the haze of pain and her own labored breaths, she hears Nobu and Matthew fighting nearby, then a terrifying moment of silence.  
  
Elektra forces her weight onto her good arm and glances up, and what she sees makes her blood freeze in her veins.  Matthew is swaying helplessly on his knees, his mask knocked off, his face bloody and dazed.  Nobu stands victorious with her sai in hand.  In a flash she’s there, shielding Matthew with her own body as Nobu pulls back his arm to strike.  
  
The wound is fatal.  Elektra knows it the instant the sai pierces her chest.  Nobu is frozen in shock, so surprised at accidentally stabbing her that he doesn’t even pull the weapon out.  With the last of her strength Elektra punches him in the face, and Nobu takes the sai with him as he rolls across the rooftop.  
  
Matthew catches her as she falls.  “No! No, Elektra, no,” he says, his hand presses tight against her wound, but does nothing to staunch the bleeding.  
  
“They have nothing now,” Elektra assures him, “I took it all away.”  Maybe Stick was right.  Maybe this is the only way to defeat the Hand, to save Matthew and his city.    
  
“It’s okay, you’ll be okay,” Matthew lies in soothing tones.  “Try not to talk.”  
  
It’s good advice.  Blood is gushing into her lungs and every breath is an excruciating struggle.  But if she doesn’t get the words out now, she’ll never have another chance.  
  
“I know now what it feels to be good.”  She wants to tell Matthew that she finally understands.  Understands why he would risk his life to save perfect strangers, to give everything to protect the city he loves, because now she feels it too.    
   
“Does it always hurt this much?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, it always hurts this much,” Matthew answers and clutches her tighter.  
  
Elektra wants to say that it’s alright.  That laying down her life to protect him is worth it, and this moment in his arms is sweet despite all the pain.  But there aren’t enough breaths for her words.  Even the pain is fading as everything goes cold and dark.    
  
“This is not the end,” she whispers.  _I will find you again, in this life or the next._  
  
Elektra breathes out but never finds the strength to breathe in again.    
  
Darkness swallows her whole.

*~*~*

The smell of freshly turned earth fills Matt’s nostrils, mingling with the scent of flowers and stone from the other graves all around.  It feels wrong that Elektra’s bright light is snuffed out, with only two broken, blind men to mourn at her funeral.  But her adoptive family are all long dead, and Matt has no idea how to contact any of the friends or acquaintances she might have made around the world.  At least this way he and Stick could speak honestly.  
  
“God rest her soul,” Stick pronounces, “That should be enough.”  
  
“You wanted her dead,” Matt points out.  Stick doesn’t seem happy about getting his way, and Matt doesn’t need to hear the words to know that Stick had cared for her in his own way.  
  
“Was it worth it?” Stick asks him, “Loving her.”  
  
“I only had a few moments with her, amidst all the noise, and chaos, and violence,” he tells Stick.  “We were together for only moments, that was all.”  Yet each of those moments is etched indelibly into Matt’s memory:  Elektra’s fiery kisses; her laughter as they bumped knees on his narrow couch; the cadence of her heartbeat when he promised to run with her, to the ends of the earth if need be…  Twice now she’d blazed across his life like a comet, and he’ll never know a fire like hers again.  
  
He loved Elektra and she knew it.  That is the only thing he doesn’t regret.  
  
“Yes Stick,” Matt finally admits, “It was worth it.”  
  
“Matt, you are the toughest son of a bitch I have ever met,” Stick tells him in gruff admiration,  “Let’s go home.”

  
  
*~*~*

Back home, Matt suits up for patrol after seeing Stick off to the airport.  His wounds have barely begun to heal, but the mask will hide the bruises and he’s not expecting anything particularly dangerous tonight.  
  
A whiff of something coppery and stale hits Matt’s nose as he finishes dressing, and he pauses to locate its source.  There’s a tiny spot of dried blood caught on the inside edge of his glove.  _Elektra's blood..._

Suddenly Matt’s mind plummets back to that instant on the rooftop, to the exact moment when Elektra’s heart stopped beating.  No matter how hard he held on, her lifeblood kept dripping through his fingers, soaking into the cold concrete beneath.  Matt crumples to the ground, and this time there’s no reason to get back up.  After all, there’s no ninja army to fight, no Nobu to fling off the roof; there’s only himself, face-to-face with his most spectacular failure.  
  
The woman he loved is rotting in the ground.  All because he insisted on charging headlong into Nobu’s trap, because he couldn’t protect her, because he had failed her.  Elektra is dead because she loved him, and Matt can think of no greater burden than having to live with that knowledge.  
  
There’s an awful keening noise, like an animal in pain, and it takes Matt a long moment to realize the sound is coming out of his own mouth.  He claps a hand over his mouth to muffle the noise, but it does nothing to dull the pain raging within.    
  
Matt’s fist thumps into the wall, again and again and again.  The rhythmic sound of the punches the only thing capable of drowning out the voice within.   Plaster dust fills the air, coating his hair and his skin, mixing with the tears coursing down his face.  Eventually his sobs turn into ragged breaths, and finally silence.  By the time Matt gets ahold of himself again, his knuckles are a bruised and bloody mess, and there’s a new crater in his living room wall.  
  
Matt strips off the Daredevil suit with shaking hands and throws it back in the trunk, shutting the lid firmly before walking away.    
  
The next night he tries to find comfort in the Holy Bible, but his mind refuses to focus, and the raised dots of braille are just a meaningless blur beneath his fingers.  In the end he gives up and chucks his Bible in the trunk beside the Daredevil suit, with Elektra’s funeral invitation tucked into its pages.  
  
Every few days he’d lay his hand on the trunk as evening falls, but he couldn’t bring himself to open it again.  He can’t risk anyone else, not Claire, or Karen, or God forbid Foggy.  As the days turn into weeks, Matt guiltily shoves the trunk into the furthest corner of his living room and lets it gather dust.  
  
Matt tries to convince himself that there are other heroes who can take up the mantle.  The Avengers, Luke Cage, Jessica Jones, some new kid with a glowing fist.  New York City can get by just fine without the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.  
  
Winter descends on New York like a clenched fist, bringing iron grey skies and ice-slick streets.  
  
Instead of patrolling, Matt throws himself into legal work, taking cases that really matter and working them _pro bono_.  He eats his meals, goes to church, even calls up Karen and Foggy once in a while, awkward as those conversations can be.  
  
He misses Elektra.  
  
Sometimes the pain is so fierce it sucks the breath right out of his lungs.  
  
Other times it’s just a familiar ache, like the soreness in his muscles after every fight.  
  
The hollowness is always there, but most days it doesn’t swallow him whole.  Matt thinks he’ll just have to live with it for the rest of his life.

 

*~*~*  
  
**Epilogue**

It begins on a typical Thursday morning.  Foggy calls with a tip about Jessica Jones being held at the 29th Precinct in Harlem, and asks Matt to step in as a favor to him and his new employers at Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz.    
  
“She’s not under arrest this time,” Foggy explains.  “But Hogarth says Jessica is ‘uniquely talented’ at pissing people off, and she’s worried Jones will talk herself into an obstruction of justice charge or worse if someone isn’t there to stop her.”  
  
Matt has no trouble getting his blood-stained and tight-lipped new client released, but things quickly take a turn for vigilante land when he follows her into the Midland Circle building.  A few minutes later shots ring out on the penthouse floor and Matt is charging up the stairs with Jessica’s scarf wrapped around his head as an improvised mask.  They make it to the top floor just as Danny Rand and Luke Cage crash through a wall, hotly pursued by a gang of Hand goons in corporate suits.      
  
“Uh oh,” Jessica says as a new enemy steps into the hallway.  
  
The attacker punches Matt so hard that he goes flying through the air.  Glass shatters all around him, and Matt lands painfully amidst the shards.  His opponent is a blur of motion, faster and more deadly than any foe Matt has ever faced.    
  
But there’s a certain familiarity to her movements, a rhythm he knows so well.  A long moment of silence descends as she stands over Matt, raising both blades for a final strike.  She exhales hard and suddenly Matt _knows_.     
  
_“Elektra…”_ Matt breathes out like a prayer.  
  
His body is painfully battered and bruised, but Matt’s heart leaps with joy.  
  
He doesn’t know how it’s possible, but he trusts in his own senses.    
  
Elektra is alive again.  
  
No matter what they’ve done to her, Elektra,  _his_ Elektra, must still be there.  
  
This time he is not going to change his mind.  
  
This time he is not going to give up.  
  
This time he will love her with everything he’s got and never look back.

  
*~*~*  
**{The End}**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See next chapter for deleted scenes, soundtrack recommendations, and the reasons why I love the Matt/Elektra ship so much :)


	15. Bonus Materials: Author's Note, Deleted Scenes, & Soundtrack

**%%%%%**

**AUTHOR’S NOTE**

I’ve been head over heels in love with the Matt/Elektra ship for the past year, and this month marks my one-year anniversary in the Daredevil fandom :)  During that time, it’s helped me get back into writing after a nine year hiatus, inspired 9 completed fics, and 15 WIPs that I’m still busily working on.  
  
Oddly enough, I didn’t become a fan of this relationship until the very end of the Defenders.  The first time I watched Daredevil season 2, I thought Elektra was really hot and I saw the on-screen chemistry.  But I was also a little biased against Elektra due to some pre-conceptions, and dismissed the Matt/Elektra dynamic as an unhealthy relationship.  Then their “death” scene in the Defenders just pierced my heart, and I thought “Right or wrong, they love each other and those feelings are real.”  When I went back and re-watched Daredevil season 2, it was like seeing everything through new eyes.    
  
Elektra is so much more than the “psycho ex-girlfriend” that some people dismiss her as.  I really love the nuance and layers that the show writers and Elodie Yung brought to the character.  She’s complicated and often conflicted; a ruthless killer who’s capable of true love and self sacrifice; and a constantly evolving character that writers can take in many different directions.    
  
I think the Matt/Elektra love story is always going to be complicated, and that’s part of the reason it’s so compelling.  It could end in happily ever after or epic disaster, and I want to explore all the possibilities.  In terms of reading, I value good writing more than any particular ship, and there are many Matt/Foggy, Matt/Frank, Matt/Claire, Matt/Karen, Matt/other (Charlie Cox has great on-screen chemistry with everyone!) fics that I adore.  But so far, Matt/Elektra is the only ship I feel compelled to write, and the fact that they’re a pretty small corner within the Daredevil fandom motivates me to write more.  Elektra and Matt’s story is far from over, and I’m looking forward to watching it continue on the Netflix shows, and also seeing it grow in fandom.  
  
For Moments Etched in Memory, I originally just wanted to write a few vignettes to explore how Matt went from _'Oh God, I do NOT want my ex-girlfriend back in my life,'_ to _'Elektra is the love of my life and I can't live without her.'_ Then I started writing, and writing, and writing some more, and soon realized that I needed to re-tell the whole Daredevil S2 Matt/Elektra plot arc.  
  
I was about 10,000 words into the fic before deciding to write some of it from Elektra’s POV.  That was the key that unlocked the whole story for me (although in hindsight it seems really obvious).  Finally I had something original to add to what was already in the show, and it was really interesting to explore her motivations, which were often very different from Matt’s.  
  
Again, thank you so much for reading and for coming on this journey with me.  
  
~ This fic is gifted to [Significantowl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/significantowl), because her Matt/Elektra fics are some of the first and best I’ve found for this ship, and they were a real inspiration.

  
**%%%%%**

  
**DELETED SCENES**

  
**Control**  
  
Matt’s body is never fully under his own control whenever Elektra’s around.  
  
Her every movement tugs on his senses like a beacon.  Even when she’s holding perfectly still, her presence blazes in his senses.  Strong heartbeats, deep breaths, heat and scent rising from her body like a desert mirage.  Sometimes just the way she says his name — _“Matthew”_ — is enough to make him half-hard.  This first began in college ten years ago.  By now it’s practically a Pavlovian reflex.  
  
Stick’s old lessons ring through his head:  
   
“The mind controls the body.”  
  
“The body controls our enemies.”  
  
“Our enemies control jack shit when we’re done with them!”  
  
But Elektra’s not an enemy, not exactly.  Not an enemy to anything except his self control.  
  
His body may be a lost cause, but Matt still retains full control of his mind, his words, his actions.  So he uses them to tell her “No.”  No more mind games, no more manipulation, no more temptation.  He sends her out the door over and over, and she leaves every time he tells her to.  
  
But somehow, the very next night, she’s always by his side again.  
   
Matt’s starting to think that his body might be smarter than his brain.  
  
*~*~*  
A/N: The whole fic started with this drabble.  But ultimately I couldn’t find a place for it in the main story, and posted it as a stand-alone in [Daredevil Ficlets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12243096).

**%%%%%**

**Breakup Scene from Matt’s POV**  
  
Matt cannot love a killer.    
  
_Thou shalt not kill_ is the one commandment he holds most sacred.  Yet in the restless nights after Elektra first left him, Matt had wondered more than once if he should have been the one to kill Roscoe Sweeney.  After all, he wasn’t sorry that the man was dead.  With one slash of the knife he could have avenged his father and kept the love of his life by his side, and in the dark of night it had seemed like a bargain worth making.  But in the light of day he’d been horrified for even entertaining the thought, and the very idea of murder seemed like a stain on his soul that no amount of penance could wash away.    
  
Only Elektra could turn the black and white morals he lives by into a million shades of grey, and he can’t ever let her tempt him down that dark road again.    
   
He’d stood firm ten years ago, and he can do it again now.  “We have to stop corrupting each other,” he says, proud of himself for keeping his voice calm and distant, “Goodbye, Elektra.”  
  
He senses Elektra’s entire body tensing like she’s just taken a blow.  Matt braces himself for more explanations, apologies, or pleas.  Instead there’s only an agonizing moment of silence before his front door closes with a sense of finality.  Once again he hears the sound of her footsteps retreating as she walks out of his life, only this time it’s by his choice.  
  
Matt stands swaying slightly on the spot, reminding himself over and over that he made the right decision.  He can’t be with someone who could end a life without a second thought, someone who’s killed countless times before and would certainly do so again.     
  
He still loves her anyway.

  
  
**%%%%%**

 **Rooftop Black Sky Scene from Matt’s POV**  
  
This isn’t the reunion Matt was hoping for.  
  
After leaving Stick tied up in his living room, he follows the frantic sound of Elektra’s heartbeats to the roof, and finds her swaying on the ledge, her toes hanging out over thin air.    
  
_Jesus, what did Stick say to her?_  
  
He walks towards her slowly and cautiously, as if he’s approaching a cornered wild animal.    
  
“Leave me alone, Matthew,” Elektra tells him without turning around.    
  
Elektra’s in turmoil, and Matt can’t leave her to face this darkness alone any more than he could have let her bleed out on his couch.  Matt stops in his tracks but lets his voice reach out to her, calm and reassuring, “Whatever you're feeling, it's going to pass.”  
  
“What do you know about what I'm feeling?” Elektra shoots back.  
  
“Just consider the possibility that there is no such thing as a Black Sky.  That it's mysticism, it's nonsense.  That maybe everything they taught you was a lie.”  
  
“You can't deny that some of what the Hand does defies explanation,” Elektra says.  Matt has to admit that he has no logical explanation for how Nobu keeps coming back to life, but that doesn’t mean he needs to believe in the Hand’s propaganda wholesale.  
  
“Even in a cage I'll be their false idol,” she continues.  “They'll do terrible things in my name because they think the Black Sky will make them invincible.”  
  
“Well, they can't have you!” Matt tells her, “You don't belong to anyone.  And you may be smarter and stronger and more powerful than anyone they've ever met, but like I keep saying, they don't get to tell you who you are.”  Elektra takes a step back from the roof ledge, and he senses some of the tension easing from her body as his words finally get through.  
  
“Some people say Nobu's lived three lifetimes,” Elektra continues, “He’s the head of the snake, our best chance of taking down the Hand.”  
  
“Then our job is simple. We find Nobu and we extract him.  I say we head straight into the lion's den.  The last thing they're expecting is that we hit back at them now!”  Even Matt knows that it’s a foolhardy, hastily formulated plan.  But he’d rather be taking action than debating philosophy on a rooftop, and he’s certain Elektra feels the same.  
  
“You would risk everything for me?” she asks, hopeful but uncertain, “Why?”  
  
Matt could say it’s because she’s been fighting for him and his city all these weeks, and it was time for him to return the favour.  He wants to shield her back and stand by her side.  To believe in the light he still sees in her, and trust her to make the right choice.  
  
“Because I love you,” Matt tells her instead.  Sometimes the simplest answers were the truest.  
  
Elektra finally turns to face him, but her feet stay rooted to the spot.  “You only love the good in me,” she says.  
  
“No, I love you.  All of you,” Matt tells her earnestly, “I love you no matter if you’re good or bad or somewhere in between.  I still don’t believe in killing, and I may disagree with you on how to carry out a mission.  But from now on I’m not setting any more rules or conditions.  I will just love you.”  
  
Elektra finally reaches for him, and gives him the longest and sweetest kiss of his life.  “I love you too Matthew,” she says as she caresses his face, “More than life itself.”  
  
“So how do we do this?”  
  
“Not alone,” Matt answers as he holds out his hand.  After a heartbeat, Elektra takes his hand in hers, and her grip is as warm and strong as ever.  “We do it together.”  
  
*~*~*  
A/N: Ultimately I decided to write this scene from Elektra’s POV because the Black Sky plotline carries much higher emotional stakes for her than Matt.  The non-canon declaration of love at the end would have been nice, but they really weren’t there yet in the show, and it detracts a little from Matt’s “Wherever you run…” speech right before the final battle.

**%%%%%**

  
**SOUNDTRACK**

 **FANVIDS**  
~ Awesome [Matt/Elektra fanvid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MxFeljHaV3M) by ohmygettingcrazy, set to the song "[Devil Side"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SY2l7PxHBAM) by Foxes  
  
~ [Another Love fanvid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bg7B6bPuRkU) by AnneSoshi.  Wonderful encapsulation of the Matt/Karen/Elektra love triangle.  
  
**SONGS**  
~ [Daredevil - Elektra Suite](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W8A_OEoUmo8), soundtrack music re-arranged and edited by Jorah the Andal.  
  
~ [Whataya Want From Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iL25Njr8xFA), P!nk and Adam Lambert duet version.  
  
~ [Lover You Should Have Come Over](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCIAkDLhNG0), by Jeff Buckley (Song starts around 0:45)  
  
    This is such a perfect fit for the ending of Daredevil Season 2.  The song starts at a funeral, and has such gorgeous lyrics:  
    “It’s never over, my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder.  
    It’s never over, all my riches for her smiles when I slept so soft against her.  
    It’s never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter.  
    It’s never over, she’s the tear that hangs inside my soul forever…”

 

**%%%%%**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurray, it's finally finished! This is by far the longest fic I've written to date, and also my first time posting a WIP. Thank you all very, very much for coming on this journey with me :)


End file.
